


Ineffable, Indescribable and Many Other Words of Love

by Buckets_Of_Stars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alpha Crowley (Good Omens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Anniversary, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), BDSM, Biting, Blow Jobs, Blurb, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Character Study, Cock Warming, Consort Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Tongue (Good Omens), Crying Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cute, Cute Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dates, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Dominant Crowley (Good Omens), Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Fake Character Death, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Flustered Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Good Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Heats/Ruts, Hurt Artemis (OC), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Torture, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable OC Children, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mama Aziraphale, Mama Bear Aziraphale, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Naga, Naga Crowley, Nightmares, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Omega Aziraphale (Good Omens), One Shot Collection, Panic Attacks, Papa Bear Crowley, Paper Cuts, Past Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Crowley, Possessiveness, Pregnant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Prince Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Restraint Kink, Restraints, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sacrifice, Scared Aziraphale, Sentence Prompt, Sex, Shameless Smut, Sick Aziraphale, Smut, Snake Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft BDSM, Soothing Crowley (Good Omens), Sort Of, Stressed Aziraphale (Good Omens), Submissive Aziraphale (Good Omens), Table Sex, Temptation, They are married, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Torture, Western, dad crowley, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 26,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/pseuds/Buckets_Of_Stars
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley were never supposed to be friends. Never supposed to enjoy each other's company or seek each other out in a crowd or go to dinner or spend time together.And they definitely weren't supposed to fall in love. But they have and it's taken the whole world by storm.





	1. Cherish [cher·ish]: protect and care for (someone) lovingly

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO I WANTED A PLACE TO PUT ALL OF MY GOOD OMENS FICS SO YEAH ENJOY THIS LASDJFLKJA
> 
> Prompt by @anon on Tumblr: If you’re still doing the prompts, what about Crowley taking care of his sick angel?
> 
> hECK SO this is like my 4th Good Omens fic in the last 5 days (I think) so I hope you guys enjoy this one :D please please pleaseeee let me know what you think and if you have anything you want me to write, don't be afraid to send it it :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens.

* * *

“Angel.” Crowley says, leaning over from his place above their bed and grabbing onto the blanket from where Zira had thrown it off to the side. “Please just say under the covers. You’re freezing–”

Aziraphale shakes his head, blinking up at his mate as the demon frowns. “No, no, my dear, I am perfectly fi–”

The angel cuts himself off with a hacking cough, his whole body jolting with the force and he nearly whimpers as his throat throbs from the constant abuse. 

Angels, or any supernatural being to be honest, don’t normally get sick but Aziraphale seems to have been on Earth long enough that his immune system isn’t quite what it once was up in Heaven. 

Crowley coos, leaning down and gently rubbing the blonde’s back as he finally regains his breath. Aziraphale sucks in a lung-full of air, choking a bit as he collapses back against the pillows.

“It’s okay, dove.” Crowley says, smoothing back Zira’s curls from his forehead. “Just breathe, alright.” 

Aziraphale nods, pulling the covers further up his chin and swallows as his eyes fill with frustrated tears.

“I-I am very sorry that you have to deal with me in s-such a state, dearest.” The angel says, wincing as his throat scratches. 

His husband just leans down and kisses his cheek with a sigh, gently cupping the trembling angel’s face in his warm hands. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.” Crowley says, rubbing his nose across the blonde’s jaw and pressing featherlight kisses against his skin. “Relax.” 

The angel doesn’t respond, just closes his eyes and tries in vain to keep from coughing again as his chest constricts. Finally, however, he can’t keep it contained and his whole body shoots up as another round of coughing causes his lungs to ache. 

“Shh. Shh, baby.” Crowley says, helping his mate sit up as he gags a little. “Just let it all out, shh.”

“It-It hurts.” Aziraphale gasps, whining a little. 

“I know, my love, I know.” Crowley coos, voice strained. He gently begins rubbing his angel’s back in soothing circles, hating how Zira’s breathe wheezes. “I would take it all away if I could, I swear to you I would.” 

Carefully climbing from their bed as Aziraphale finally calms down once more, the demon making soothing sounds under his breath when his mate reaches out toward him. 

“I’m just going to get you a drink, sweetness. I’ll be back in just a minute.” 

Snapping his fingers, the demon is gone in a pop and back again before Zira could even blink, holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand and an old, black t-shirt in the other.

“Sit up for me, honey.”

Compiling, Aziraphale gasps as his bottom-up shirt is snapped away, shivering in the chilly air. Before he could complain, however, Crowley is gently pulling the black shirt over his head and the angel nearly groans at how soft the fabric is against his achy, overheated skin. 

Brining the shirt up to his nose, the blonde melts when he realizes that its his husband’s and he can’t keep himself from sniffling a bit, reaching over and pulling the frowning demon closer to him.

“Hold on, dove.” Crowley says, grabbing the still steaming cup and bringing it up to the angel’s mouth. “Take small sips, it’s hot.”

Taking a bit of tea into his mouth, the blonde closes his eyes as the hot liquid soothes his throat, a sigh of pleasure leaving him. Above him, Crowley smiles, his yellow eyes soft.

Finally, the angel finishes his drink, leaning into the soft touch that his laid against his cheek as his husband sets the cup down.

“Thank you s-so much–” Cutting himself off to cough, Aziraphale clears his throat as he leans back against the pillows once more. “–my dear.” 

Crowley settles down beside his mate, gathering the angel against his chest and smiling gently when Zira nuzzles closer.

“It’s no problem, angel.” The demon says, pressing a sweet kiss against his husband’s forehead. “Just try and get some sleep right now alright? That should make you feel a shit tons better tomorrow.” 

Aziraphale just yawns, shifting so that Crowley is curled around him, the demon’s legs trapping his own in a cocoon of warmth. He can feel Crowley sigh against his neck before his arms tighten around Aziraphale’s waist and the angel closes his eyes.


	2. Desire [de·sire]: strongly wish for or want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write some hubbies making out cause I was sad and needed something to cheer me up lol I hope yall enjoy the sin <3 <3

* * *

“Angel?!”

“My dear–” Aziraphale gasps as he stands up from his desk, eyes widening when Crowley practically sprints into the back room of the bookshop. “What’s wrong– _oof_!”

The demon crashes into him, grabbing onto the angel’s waist and smashes his mouth against his husband’s. Zira doesn’t resist, just takes the kiss with a muffled sound of confusion, leaning into Crowley. 

The red-head growls against Aziraphale’s lips, his forked tongue exploring the wet expanse of the angel’s mouth as Zira gasps. Crowley pulls his husband closer, pulling the angel’s hips and grinding against him until Aziraphale has no choice but to submit.

Not that Aziraphale minds, though. 

Pulling back with a pop, Crowley leans his head down and trails hot, open mouth kisses against the soft expanse of Zira’s jaw, pushing his nose against the angel’s skin. Aziraphale trembles, his legs nearly threatening to give out as heat pools in his stomach, turning his insides into mush. 

“What– _ah_ –What brought this on, my d-dear?” Zira asks, biting his kiss swollen lip as the demon nibbles at his skin, tilting his head to give his husband better access. 

“I need a reason to kisssss my husband?” The red-head hisses, yellow eyes, pupils blown in desire, glance up at Aziraphale’s face before another, sharper bite against his pulse point causes the angel to moan. 

“Well, uh, n-no but–” 

Strong arms are suddenly lifting him up and the blonde lets out a small squeak of alarm as Crowley sets him on his desk, the extra height of the wood enabling the angel to stare directly into his mate’s yellow eyes. 

The sight of them, not hidden behind the normal dark sunglasses, is enough to nearly undo the angel then and there.

“Then just enjoy it, darling.” Crowley drawls, reaching up to brush a curl from Aziraphale’s forehead, smiling gently. “Relax.” 

Zira blows out a stream of air, letting his body droop just a bit as Crowley leans back in, pressing sweet kisses against his cheeks before moving down lower and biting at the angel’s neck again. Aziraphale groans at the sensation, goosebumps causing him to shiver as the demon’s sharp fangs graze his skin. 

Taking a step in-between his husband’s legs, Cowley wraps his arms further around the blonde, licking a hot stripe up the angel’s neck as Aziraphale pulls him closer. 

“So beautiful.” Crowley mutters into Zira’s ear, taking the soft skin into his teeth and tugging. “So lovely. My husband, my love. _Mine_.” 

“Y-Yours.” Aziraphale breathes, gripping his husband’s arms tighter, feeling the lean muscle twitch under his fingers as the red-head finally gravitates back to his lips.

Their lips connect again, sending sparks flaring through the angel’s skin as Crowley leans him back, the cold desk a relief from the heat making his head spin. 

The demon climbs so that he is straddling Azirapahle, his legs on either side of the blonde’s legs and his hands suddenly pinning the angel’s hands above his head.

Aziraphale moans even louder at that, eyes rolling and he groans out a mixture of Crowley’s name and a few, whimpered, swear words.

Soft hands gently pull at the shirt still tucked into the waist of his dress pants and Zira lifts his hips in response, allowing his mate to carefully pull the fabric out so that he has access to his hips. Finally, the fabric is torn away and Aziraphale gasps as the cool air slides over his now exposed sides. 

Crowley lets out a pleased rumble against his angel’s lips at the feeling of Aziraphale’s smooth skin and Zira whimpers in response, pushing himself closer to his husband as much as the position will allow. 

“Should we– _ah, Crowley_ –Should be take t-this upstairs, darling?” Azirapahle asks, panting and nearly choking on a moan when his husband suddenly grinds against him. 

Crowley nods, voice vibrating with a growl as he pulls his angel up, smiling when Zira wraps his legs around his waist. “I think that would be a great idea, dove.” 

Their lips don’t part all the way up the stairs, both of them breathing each other in and not caring as the door to their bedroom slams shut with enough force that it rattles the whole floor.


	3. Assault [as·sault]: make a physical attack on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after the "boyfriend in dark glasses" comment in 1x06.
> 
> So I thought of an alternate way this scene could have gone if Crowley and Aziraphale were already married when the show aired and I really wanted to write a little thingy about it lol I hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

Aziraphale frowns as Michael says this, watching as her dark eyes narrow further in distrust. The blonde angel shifts a bit, holding up a hand to stop the higher ranking angel from speaking further. 

“H-Husband.” Aziraphale mutters, ducking his head as Michael takes a small step closer. 

“What?” Sandalphon says from Aziraphale’s left and he glances over to see that the smaller man is frowning, his eyes blazing in anger.

“Uh, yeah well you see.” Aziraphale stumbles over his words, holding up his left hand and wiggling his fingers, his golden wedding band glistening in the afternoon sun. “Crowley and I are uh, are married, so your statement, Angel Michael, is um, f-false so–” 

Aziraphale cuts himself off as Michael grabs at the front of his jacket, pushing him up against the brick behind him in a sudden show of strength and hostility. Lips curling in a snarl, the female angel gives him a firm shake, Aziraphale having to bite his lip to keep from gasping in pain as the wall digs into his back. 

“Shut the fuck up.” She hisses. “Just shut up.” 

Zira nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

This is nothing like when Crowley would push him against the wall. Although rough, the demon does it in a form of love, of something thats uniquely there’s and Aziraphale would be lying if he said that he didn’t love it. The way his husband would hold him up, would tuck his arms around his waist and support the blonde’s weight as they kiss or just hold each other.

With Crowley it’s a sign of love and trust. With Michael, however, it’s anything but.

“You betrayed us, Aziraphale.” Michael says, breaking the blonde out of his thoughts. Her voice is filled with anger and judgement, like nails on a chalkboard. “You’re pathetic.” 

Aziraphale frowns, squirming a little in her harsh grip as the other angel’s start to move closer. “I am no such thing–”

The fist Sandalphon shoves against his stomach is as unexpected as it is painful and Zira groans at the attack, doubling over. He gags, listening as the higher ranking angels laugh above him. 

“If you think that hurt,” Uriel says somewhere to his right. “You are really not going to like what Gabriel has in store for you.” 

_Well,_ Aziraphale thinks as his coworkers finally leave, the pain in his gut increasing as he stands upright once more. He grimaces, reaching up to fix his bow-tie with shaking hands. _Crowley is not going to be happy when he hears about this._

And his husband really _really_ wasn’t.


	4. Vacillation [vas-uh-ley-shuh n]: to fear or self-doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by: @anon: Bit of an angsty headcanon here. It takes Crowley a while to get Aziraphale to admit when he's uncomfortable or hurt during sex because of the angel's self-esteem issues/he's more worried about Crowley's pleasure. One time, Crowley accidentally makes him bleed after being a bit too rough and they have to have a long cuddle and talk after. "Angel, sweetheart, I *need* you to tell me if I'm hurting you." And Aziraphale just alternates between apologizing and brushing off his own discomfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or any related material.

* * *

Aziraphale glances away, lowering his eyes when he feels Crowley’s grip tighten against his waist. His mate is scrawled across the bed, spooning the angel from behind, his yellow eyes deadly serious when Zira risks glancing up for a split second. 

I-I don’t–” The blonde says, swallowing and barely holding back a wince when Crowley’s chest jolts in a soft growl. “I mean, darling, that, I uh, I’m sorry for-for–”

“For nothing!” Crowley interrupts, one hand reaching over to gently cup Aziraphale’s cheek, his other pulling his husband closer. “You’re sorry for nothing because you did _nothing wrong_ , baby. I was the one who-who made you _bleed_ for someone’s sake!” 

Head snapping up at the pain echoing through his mate’s voice, Aziraphale shakes his head, his eyes widening. 

“No, no Crowley, it’s fine! I asked you to be rougher.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” The demon says, gritting his teeth. “I fucking hurt you, angel. That’s never fine. But I need you to _tell me_ , Aziraphale, if I hurt you, alright? I never want something like this to happen again.” 

Zira nods, frowning as he looks away again, the pure heat of his husband’s stare threatening to burn him to a crisp. 

“What?” Crowley asks, his voice soft and oh so gentle that it nearly sends Aziraphale into subspace for the second time that night. “Dove, what’s going on in that beautiful mind, hmm?” 

The angel shivers, hands shaking as he twists his fingers together, the sharp jabs of pain helping to keep him from sobbing. He jolts a bit, however, when familiar warm hands suddenly grab his own, pulling the twitching digits until the blonde has no choice but to surrender. 

To submit.

“Aziraphale?” 

“I am not–” Cursing internally when his voice cracks, Aziraphale swallows, feeling Crowley shift impossibly closer in response. “–not use to-to my feelings being taken into consideration, is all, my dear.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Crowley coos, his face suddenly lighting up with understanding and he leans over, peppering sweet kisses all over his sub’s face. “You never have to worry about that with me, okay?”

Aziraphale leans into each gentle touch, melting like butter. “I know, Crowley, I know, trust me. It’s j-just so hard sometimes.” 

Tugging on his mate until the blonde is nestled against his chest, the demon smoothes his lips over Aziraphale’s, feeling Zira sigh against his mouth. 

“I know, love.” Crowley mumbles when they pull apart, cupping the sides of Aziraphale’s face, his palms warm. “But I’m gonna help you, alright? We can add another safeword and take it easy for a while, anything you need. I love you, more than anything in this entire universe, darling.” 

Aziraphale blinks away tears, leaning in for another kiss just as Crowley shifts closer. “I love you too, my dear. More than you know.” 


	5. Unwanted [un·want·ed]: not or no longer desired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: how do you think crowley would react if him and zira were out at like, a restaurant or bar and someone tried to grope inappropriately at zira? like maybe crowley goes off to the toilet and when he comes back someone's crowding zira and trying to flirt with and touch him despite zira's clear uncomfort with the situation and attempts to get away?
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING FOR MINOR NON-CON**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope yall like this one and please let me know what you think! :D

* * *

Crowley can feel the anger ignite his skin, sending his bones aflame.

Crowley stalks over to the table, where he has left Aziraphale for a few seconds to grab an extra napkin, a snarl on his face and rips away the man from his husband, move so that he is in front of Aziraphale and towers over the fucker who was making his love so uncomfortable. 

He growls low in his throat, baring his fangs and flashes his furious yellow eyes above his shades, watching as the human visibility trembles in terror. The demon licks his lips, savoring the bitter taste of fear radiating from the man. Grabbing the bastard’s shirt collar, Crowley leans down and hisses into his ear, his voice as cold as a winter’s day.

“You are going to back away from my husband,” Crowley says, tightening his grip on the fucker and feeling Aziraphale step closer to him with a whine. “You are going to turn the fuck around the walk out of here and not look back once. Otherwise, I will rip apart your throat and send you to a place where not even the devil himself can find you.” 

The man nods, dark eyes glazed in primal fear before turning around and running out of the room, not looking back at all. Crowley smirks, taking a second to feel a quick rush of pride warm his chest, before he turns around and grabs Aziraphale, dragging his trembling husband into a tight embrace. 

“It’s okay, dove.” The demon coos, snapping his fingers and suddenly they are in Zira’s bookshop, the smell of leather and melted wax stinging his nose. “It’s alright, I’m right here.”

“I said no.” Aziraphale says, his wet voice muffled from where he has his nose buried against Crowley’s neck. “I told him no an-and he kept trying to touch me.”

Crowley growls again, the sound rumbling his whole chest as he runs a possessive arm down his angel’s back. “Shh, love. He’s gone and he’ll never bother you again.” 

Reaching down, the demon gently tilts his husband’s chin up, leaning down to capture Aziraphale’s sweet lips in a kiss. The angel sighs against his mouth, leaning further against him until Crowley has no choice but to bare all of his love’s weight. 

The demon doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

Pulling back, Crowley trails gentle kisses down Aziraphale’s neck and around his jaw, feeling the angel’s hold him tighter in response as he whines and moans, squirming a little. 

_Mine._ Crowley thinks, gently nipping at the soft skin under Zira’s chin. _My mate. My husband. My angel._

_Mine._


	6. Full [f-ull]: containing or holding as much or as many as possible; having no empty space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @pan anon: Aziraphale has never imagined being railed against the coffee table in his book shop. Nuh uh, no he hasn't. Nor has he ever imagined recreating Crowley's infamous 'wrestling' statue. No siree, not him.

* * *

and yet, here he was. The feeling of Crowley against his back, the demon’s fingers digging into the soft, thick flesh of Aziraphale’s thighs causing the blonde to let out a groan. His husband, taking a second to lick a hot stripe up Zira’s neck, catches his lips in a searing kiss, his hands moving from the angel’s legs to gently grasp his waist. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard–” Crowley is whispering against Aziraphale’s lips, his breath hot against the blonde’s mouth as he grinds against him. “–that you won’t even be able to come into this room without thinking of me buried deep inside of you.” 

Aziraphale lets out a low moan at that, rocking his ass back against his mate’s hips as the red-head growls. 

“Would you like that, dove?” Crowley asks, maneuvering the angel so that Zira is nearly laying on top of his coffee table, the wood cool against his heated skin. 

“ _Ah_ –y-yes, very much so– _oh–_ darling.”

Crowley grin is wicked above him, his fangs gleaming as he leans down once more, taking the soft skin under the side of Aziraphale’s jaw in-between his teeth. The angel shivers at the sensation. 

“Good.”


	7. Savior [sav·ior]: a person who saves someone or something (especially a country or cause) from danger, and who is regarded with the veneration of a religious figure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: “i wont let them near you again” / “get your hands off my ___”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy some possessive Crowley :D

* * *

When Crowley had walked into his husband’s bookshop one late afternoon, he was not expecting to be greeted by customers. 

Especially not one who though they could _touch_ his mate. 

A man, a tall man with dark brown hair and long legs, is practically standing over Zira, the angel having to lean slightly to the side. His husband’s demeanor is a mix between situated politeness and borderline panic and Crowley feels a hot, possessive rage suddenly engulf him. 

_**Get your hands off my mate.** _

Stalking over to where Aziraphale and the unknown human male were standing, Crowley lifts his lips in a snarl as he comes up behind Zira, wrapping his arms around his love’s waist and tugging the angel into his arms.

The hand that was sitting on his arm gets ripped away and the stunned human attached to it takes a step back in shock and slight fear. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale says, mouth curling into a relived smile as he glances back to Crowley, his blue eyes twinkling. “Crowley, my dear, you startled me.” 

“Sorry ‘bout that, angel.” The demon mutters, leaning down to gently trail a series of small, open mouth kisses against his husband’s neck. “Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, huh?” 

Shivering, Aziraphale shakes his head, a blush creeping down his face and causing the soft skin underneath Crowley mouth to warm. 

“ _Crowley._ ” The angel gasps, sinking further against his mate’s body even as he attempts to step away. “Not right now. I-I’m with a customer.”

“Oh really?” 

Eyeing the frozen human from above his shades, Crowley flashes the man a dark and twisted grin, his fangs glistening. The human lets out a squeak, stumbling back when Crowley lets out a low, warning growl. 

“Uh, n-no, Mr. Fell. I am-am just leaving actually.” Clearing his throat, the unknown man begins to turn around, his face pale white and his dark eyes glazed over in terror. 

“Now wait just a ssssecond.” Crowley hisses, snapping his fingers and causes the human to halt mid-stride. “I want to have a ssssmall chat before you leave.” 

Reluctanly releasing his hold on his mate, Crowley pauses for just a second to tug Aziraphale’s chin up, smashing their mouths together and feeling the angel sigh into the kiss. His lips are sweet, a hint of lemon tea and jam and something purely _Aziraphale_ , and Crowley nearly groans at the taste. 

Finally, Crowley forces himself to pull back, smiling gently down at his mate as the blonde catches his breath. Pressing another, lighter kiss against Zira’s forehead after a second, the demon turns back toward the human. 

Leaning down, Crowley hisses into the man’s ear, his voice sharp and growling in his rage. 

“If you ever come near my husband again, if you touch him, look at him, or so much as even _think_ about him, I will find you and I will bestow a faith upon you worse than death.”

Staring into the human’s eyes, Crowley allows his own demonic nature to push to the surface, feeling his serpentine pupils narrow into this slits and his fangs press against his bottom lip. The man lets out a gasp of pure feral terror and Crowley decides that he’s had enough of looking at him. 

With a quick snap of Crowley’s fingers, the man is pushed from the shop with enough force that he stumbles into the street. 

The heavy oak doors slam shut behind him and he is left on his ass in the middle of the deserted road, staring up at the darkened sky as he whole body shakes with fear. 


	8. Nightmare [night·mare]: a frightening or unpleasant dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @peribloke: ooooo maybe crowley saying “I won’t let anything happen to you, you’re safe with me” with zira being all panicky or having a bad flashback :”0? if you want !!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoy! <3

* * *

Sitting up in bed, Aziraphale chokes on air.

He coughs, his entire body trembling and the blonde squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his husband jolt awake next to him. Suddenly, the bedside lamp is turned on and Aziraphale flinches as the light sends a burst of golden static behind his eyes.

“Angel?” Crowley whispers, carefully reaching over to rest a hesitant hand against his mate’s shivering back. “Aziraphale, dove, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

Zira shakes his head, finally lifting his head and blinking up at Crowley, tears slipping free and sliding down his cheeks in waves. The demon’s frown, already pulling a deep crevasse into his forehead, becomes even deeper. 

His yellow eyes, flickering between looking down at Aziraphale and around them for some unseen threat, are bright in worry and concern. 

“S-S-Sorry, my dear.” The angel whispers, wincing as his voice drags against his throat. “Had a, uh, a little bit of a bad dream–”

Cutting himself off with a harsh sob, Aziraphale curls into himself, feeling the bed dip a little more as Crowley leans closer, carefully gathering his crying mate into his arms. The blonde sniffs, resting his cheek against his husband’s chest and breathes in.

The smell of Crowley, of something smokey and harsh, of warmth and safety and _home_ , causes another round of tears to bubble up from Azirphale’s chest. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Crowley coos above him, the sound vibrating against Zira’s cheek “Oh, my love, my darling, shh. **I won’t let anything happen to you, you’re safe with me**. Shh, dove.” 

Aziraphale just nods, snuggling closer to the demon and feels Crowley hold him tighter in response, laying multiple, soft kisses against his forehead and temples.


	9. Rage [r-age]: violent, uncontrollable anger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: "You'll touch them again and I'll kill you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D

* * *

Crowley crouches above his mate, baring his fangs as Gabriel takes a stumbling step back. The archangel’s pristine suit is splattered with golden blood, the gray tinged darker in wet spheres. 

_Aziraphale’s blood._

Crowley snarls, his rage igniting the air and sending literal sparks zapping through the hot atmosphere. Below his protective stance, the demon feels his husband latch a trembling and weak hand against his leg, the blonde’s blunt nails digging into his skin. 

“C-Crowley?” Zira whimpers, his voice ragged and nearly gone from screaming. 

Crowley silently reaches down, not tearing his gaze away from the other angels still standing a few feet away. Blindly, he gropes until his fingers come into contact with his love’s face, twisting his wrist so that he can gently cup Aziraphale’s cheek. 

Zira leans into the touch, his whole body sagging.

The tear tracks and dried blood Crowley feels etched into his mate’s skin nearly causes the demon to loose control completely right then and there. 

Sucking in a breath, Crowley summons every single last ounce of strength in his celestial body, and forces himself to keep still. To not jump across the remaining few feet and rip Gabe apart, to feel the bastard’s skin tear and for _his_ blood to sink into the cracks in the ground. 

Instead, Crowley stands up straighter, gently mrauvering Zira so that his mate is nestled in his arms, feeling the blonde angel let out a whine of pain. Gently shushing him, Crowley takes a second to stretch his wings out, watching as his midnight feathers brush against the low ceiling. 

Gabriel, his jade eyes cold, hasn’t said a single word and Crowley can feel his self control begin to fall once more at the smug smirk still in place on the bastard’s face. 

**“You touch him again.”** Crowley hisses, **“And I will kill you.”**

Then he’s lifting both him and his husband into the air, soaring through the air with the grace and speed of an owl. Aziraphale snuggles closer, his body shivering against his mate’s chest and Crowley coos, adjusting his grip on the blonde so that he can lean down. 

He presses his lips against Zira’s forehead just as they burst back into the mortal world, London a tiny speck below them.


	10. Exquisite [ex·quis·ite]: extremely beautiful and, typically, delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: aziraphale starts having body image issues so crowley lays him down in bed and fucks him slow and sweet while kissing every bit of him and telling him how good he feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoy! :D

* * *

“Sssssso good, baby.” Crowley hisses, pulling almost completely out of his mate before thrusting back into the angel’s warm and perfect heat, feeling Aziraphale’s walls tighten around him. “Sssso perfect and beautiful. All mine.”

“O-Oh, Crowley.” The blonde moans under him, his blue eyes squinted in pleasure as he rolls his hips backwards into each of Crowley’s thrusts. “Please, please.” 

“You’re so wonderful, dove.” Crowley responds, tightening his hold on his husband’s waist as he drags his tongue down the angel’s quivering throat, tasting the creamy skin. “My love. My whole world, my universe, mine o-oh–” 

“Please. My dear, please.” Aziraphale whimpers. “Oh, please do-don’t stop.”

Increasing his speed a little, the demon can feel his own release fast approaching, a sizzling bust of static filling his head as Aziraphale continues to whine into each hot kiss the red-head presses against his mouth and neck. 

“Beautiful. Gorgeous. Lovely. ” 

Crowley punctuates each word with a harder thrust, pressing his husband against the mattress and feels Aziraphale shudder, his cries increasing in pitch and volume.

“Exquisite. _Mine._ ”

Shifting a bit, Crowley angles the snap of his hips, finally hitting that _one_ sweet spot that has Zira screaming into the pillow, the sound of his mate’s unwarranted pleasure sending the demon over the edge. 

He growls as he comes, filling up a panting Aziraphale as the angel weakly pushes his ass back into Crowley’s dick, overworking the sensitive muscle with small, pulsing clenches. 

Finally, Crowley forces himself to pull out, the small whine of loss Zira lets out causing his heart to stutter in his chest. Making soothing sounds under his breathe, the red-head carefully gathers the still limp angel into his arms. 

He turns them around so that they are spooning, Aziraphale’s head resting against his chest. Running a tired hand through his mate’s soft curls, Crowley smiles gently down at the blonde, cooing when Aziraphale blinks up at him through his lashes, his blue eyes glazed over in exhaustion and love. 

“Thank you.” The angel says, accepting the tired kiss his husband lays against his bruised and red lips. 

“I love you.” Crowley whispers in response, pulling Aziraphale closer and wrapping a gentle arm around his waist. “More than every single star combined.” 

Zira sighs happily. “I love you too, darling.”


	11. Bite [bīt]: (of a person or animal) use the teeth to cut into something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P O R N 
> 
> that's all this is, enjoy!

* * *

“Oh no angel.” Crowley hisses from where he’s leaned over Aziraphale, the feeling of his hot skin against the blonde’s sending sparks down Aziraphale’s spine. “Looks like you got bit by a sssssnake.”

“Wha—“ The angel starts to ask, turning his head to glance behind him but a sudden hand against the back of his neck stops him and he whimpers.

“Oh no no no, my dove.” Crowley says, the words soft as he grips his husband’s hips tighter, feeling Aziraphale’s soft skin give way beneath his firm hands. “Let me.”

“O-Oh Crowley, _please."_

Crowley shushes him, pressing a gentle kiss against his spine before his lips move lower and the angel jerks, a low whine straining from the back of his throat. Crowley smiles against his skin, grazing his fangs over Aziraphale’s wet hole.

“Yes, my beautiful mate, it would seem that a big bad sssssnake has bitten you right here—“ Crowley licks a hot stripe down Aziraphale’s ass, feeling his husband shiver, his hole flexing as he wiggles. Crowley lets out a low growl at the sight, drawling his mate impossibly closer.

“I think we might need to ssssuck the venom out.” Crowley says, not giving his husband a chance to respond before he leaning forward and _sucking,_ his lips curving around Aziraphale’s hole.

The angel _shrieks_ in pleasure and Crowley grins.


	12. Radiant [ra·di·ant]: sending out light; shining or glowing brightly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soft hubby Crowley is soft

* * *

The way that the early morning light hits Aziraphale’s curls is one of the most beautiful sights Crowley has ever seen in his long life. 

The angel’s hair glows in a flame, a halo of gold that stretches from temple to temple.

His husband is stretched across the bed beside him, his head buried into the demon’s chest and his legs tangled in the sheets. Crowley sighs a bit as he shifts them, reaching down to gently brush Aziraphale’s hair from his forehead, marveling at the softness of the strands as they glide through his fingers. 

His heart aches. 

_ Do you even know? _ Crowley thinks, leaning forward and pressing his lips against his mate’s temple.  _ Can you even comprehend the amount of love I feel for you, my darling?  _

As though sensing Crowley’s unspoken question, the angel mutters in his sleep, nuzzling closer and tightening his hold on his husband’s arm. His lips part, his nose whistling as he sniffs and Crowley smiles. 

The demon tugs his husband closer, wrapping Aziraphale up in his arms as tightly as possible. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes but Crowley blinks them away, not wanting anything to get in the way of the pure heavenly view settling below his chin. 

_ You are loved and cherished more than you even know, dove.  _


	13. Perception [per·cep·tion]: a way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something; a mental impression.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dont even know what this is lajksdfjk enjoy XD

* * *

“Did you know--” Crowley turns toward his husband as the angel follows him toward the duck pond, tilting his chin down so that Aziraphale knows he’s listening. “--that your eyes get darker when you get angry?”

Crowley raises his eyebrows, not expecting the question. “Oh, really?”

Aziraphale nods. “Yes, I thought maybe you knew--”

The demon hissed, the air pushing from between his teeth. “Don’t like to think about my eyes much, dove. Lotta bad memories there.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale nods, swallowing and Crowley tightens his grip on his hand, squeezing to show that he’s not angry. “Right, I’m sorry, dear.” 

“Naw, you don’t have anything to be sorry for, love. Why do you ask?” 

Crowley stops them near the bench, sitting down and tugging a still frowning Aziraphale closer. The angel sinks against him, and Crowley’s chest tightens at the feeling of his warmth nestled against his side.

“Well,” Aziraphale begins, hesitating slightly and Crowley hums under his breath, pressing a quick kiss against his husband’s cheek to help soothe his nerves. “When w-we were eating dinner the other night, your eyes--”

“I had my sunglasses on the whole time, angel.” Crowley cuts his husband off, waving one hand in the air in-front of them. “How the bloody hell did you see my eyes from across the table?” 

“Oh, my dear, I always know what your eyes look like.” Aziraphale says, smiling up at the demon and Crowley nearly melts on the spot. “Anyways, while we were eating, you seemed agitated. More so than normal, I mean, and-and whenever the waiter would come near, you just got s-so--”

“Affectionate?” 

“--Jealous.” Aziraphale finishes with a sigh, letting out a small chuckle when Crowley just gawks down at him. “You really don’t hide your emotions from me very well, darling.” 

“I don’t try too.” Crowley says immediately, pulling his still giggling mate closer and gently booping him on the nose, elighting another laugh from the blonde and a grin from Crowley. “Now what does this have to do with my eyes, you silly angel.” 

“Yes, yes I’m getting there!” Aziraphale huffs, rolling his own eyes and Crowley just pokes him again. “When the waiter would approach us or, lord forbid,  _ talked to me--” _

“He was flirting with you, dove.” 

Crowley nearly growls, feeling the past anger returning as he thinks of the way that sleazy human was drooling over his husband as though Crowley hadn’t been sitting _ right there.  _ “I mean, the way he looked at you--”

“He was just a nice young man.” Zira says, his blue eyes earnest and Crowley just tugs him closer, growling possessive under his breath. “But your eyes, my dear, they got so much darker under your glasses.” 

Crowley doesn’t have a response to that, instead he just makes a sort of humming sound, ears metaphorically perking up at the desire he can hear in the undertones of his mate’s voice. 

The breathlessness to Aziraphale’s words, the way he shifted against the hard wood underneath them and blinked up at Crowley with wide eyes makes the demon nearly fall over with lust. 

“Oh really now?” Crowley hisses, discreetly snapping his fingers and sending the world around them to a quick halt. He doesn’t miss the way Aziraphale shivers at his words. “And tell me, my dove, jussssst what did they look like?”

Aziraphale’s brows draw together as he thinks. Crowley spends the next few seconds of silence drawing his husband closer, beginning to press hot, open mouthed kisses against the expanse of the angel’s neck and jaw. Aziraphale whimpers, tilting his head to allow Crowley better access and the red-head growls in approval. 

“Like f-fire.” Aziraphale finally manages to gasp out, reaching up to grip Crowley as the demon pulls him into his lap. “Your eyes looked like fire, my d-dear _ \--oh--”  _

Crowley hisses, gripping his wiggling husband’s hips tighter as the blonde begins to grind down against him. 

“--And I w-want your stare branded into my very skin.”

Crowley snarls at the words, pressing his hips more firmly against his mate’s and dragging the angel into a deep kiss, his tongue exploring the hot expanse of Aziraphale’s mouth as the latter quivers below him. 

  
  



	14. Hold [h-old]: grasp, carry, or support with one's arms or hands.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @Anon: Crowley trailing kisses from the heel of Aziraphale's hand down the inside of his wrist, until he can't get any further with Aziraphale's sleeve in the way. Aziraphale's breath hitching, his knees going weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sOFT

* * *

“What are you— _ah_ —doing, dearest?” Azirapahle asks once his husband has moved on to his other wrist, the skin tingling.

Crowley smiles up at him, his yellow eyes wide in adoration and mirth. “Kisssssing you, angel.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Aziraphale says, giving a full-body shiver when the demon gently nips at the sensitive skin below his thumb. “But w-why?”

“These hands have held my heart in them for so long,” The red-head flips Aziraphale’s wrist over, pressing a long kiss against the angel’s palm. “I figured it was about time I showed my gratitude.”


	15. Evade [e·vade]: escape or avoid, especially by cleverness or trickery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little headcanon/blurb I thought of while eating a sandwich XD I hope yall enjoy! 
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING: TALK OF DEATH/DYING**

* * *

Humans die.

Crowley and Aziraphale know this. They have seen–had _mourned_ – some of the best of them, after all, and had celebrated the deaths of the worst with long nights of drinking and dancing. 

Their own celestial bodies don’t die. Don’t age and grow old and wrinkle before they finally exhale a last, wheezing breath and are placed underneath tight packed Earth.

But, because they are among a human world and such practices are normal, as natural as breathing, they have to take necessary action to not arouse suspition from the morals around them.

It was Aziraphale who first suggested the idea, surprisingly, during a blistering summer in 1504. Had rattled on about some dairy maid down the lane, how she was whispering about them to her husband, about the _“strange men with eyes who appear to see all the way up to God._ ”

Crowley had laughed a bit harder than he probably should have, at that line. 

Nevertheless, the demon had agreed, reaching over to gently brush his fingertips across the tight, jacket covered muscles of his angel’s shoulders, pretending not to notice the way Aziraphale leaned into the touch, just a little bit.

_In a few years_. They had agreed. _It must be done, but carefully._

They had placed their own tombstones along a riverbed not far from town.

The rocks–for that was all they were really, just oversized and glorified rocks–sank into the loose soil. The sound of the water a few yards away washes over the two of them, their unnecessary breathes fogging the early morning air. 

_Well,_ Aziraphale had said after a few seconds, brushing invisible dirt from his cream trench coat. His eyes, as blue as the brightening sky above them, dart up to look into the darkness of Crowley’s glasses. _That’s that._

_A.Z Fell._

_A.J Crowley._

Crowley echoed his angel’s statement, both staring at the stones, at the jagged edges of both their names sunken into the rock, before he gently takes Aziraphale by the elbow and both of them walk carefully and silently back up the hill.

They leave that town a few days later.


	16. Homerun [home-run]: a fair hit that allows the batter to make a complete circuit of the bases without stopping and score a run.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @just-katsumi: Dude it's been raining so hard where I am and I just cannot stop thinking about the ineffable hubbies curled up on the couch during a rainstorm in Soho, a fluffly blanket draped around them, with Zira reading to Crowley and they're near a cozy fire and Crowley's stroking Zira's floofy hair and uuuuuuugh it's so domestic and fluffy and won't leave my head until this rain stops 😫😫😍😍

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS TOO SOFT FOR ME NOT TO WRITE ABOUT OKAY LASJDFLKA SO SOFT AND CUTE AND YES :D based on the idea that thunder is the sound of angels playing baseball

A boom of thunder shakes the walls of their cabin, but both angel and demon pay it no mind. They shift closer, Crowley reaching over to gently press his lips against his husband’s forehead, feeling Aziraphale sigh and sink further against him. 

Another crash of thunder echos throughout the fields around their home and Aziraphale takes a quick glance outside, his reading glasses reflecting the brief flashes of lightning zipping across the blackened sky. 

“Michael must have scored another Homerun.” He hums, turning the page in his book as Crowley snorts. “Gabriel will never hear the end of it, I’m sure.”

“You ever play, dove?” The red-head asks, grinning when Aziraphale laughs. 

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale shifts on the couch, the leather squeaking. “I could out-play Michael even on a bad day.”

Crackling, Crowley reaches over to gently poke at the simmering fire, the warmth soaking into his bones. Aziraphale lays back against him once the demon get the coals going again, resting his head sweetly against his mate’s chest as the rain continues to pound outside. 

“Now, let me finish the chapter, darling, before we start dinner.” 

Crowley kisses his cheek, his golden eyes soft. “Of course, love.”


	17. Hesitation [hes·i·ta·tion]: the action of pausing or hesitating before saying or doing something.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: HI I LOVE YOU, YOUR WRITING AND THAT YOU HAVE THE SAME SOFTNESS FOR D/S FLUFF AS ME!!! ❤ no preassure to get this done quickly or anything, but i am craving a short and sweet lil fic where things start to get steamy between the husbands but then Azi gets uneasy and so they end up cuddling and Crowley is reassuring and comforting towards his sub. It doesn't have to be long, just something short and sweet would make my day so much 💖 again i love you ❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets kinda steamy but then fluffy XD I hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

“Gonna make you feel so good, darling. You’re so beautiful.” Crowley coos from where he is straddling his submissive, the feeling of Aziraphale’s thighs pressing against his legs nearly undoing him then and there. “Gonna mark y-you up so everyone knows you’re _mine._ ”

Aziraphale moans, tilting his head to the side and reaching up to grip at the hard muscles along his mate’s arms. Crowley hisses in pleasure at the feeling, nipping along the blonde’s neck. 

“You always m-make me feel good, sir.” Aziraphale breathes, shifting and feeling Crowley thrust down against him. 

**_TOO MUCH._ **

“I’m the only one–” Crowley pants, annotating his words with a sharp bite against his mate’s collarbone, Aziraphale gasping in a mixture of pain and pleasure. “–the only one allowed to do this to you, to _sssee you like this_ , dove.”

Aziraphale sobs. “ _Yes,_ only-only you, Crowley. Always.”

The sudden tears that spring to Aziraphale’s eyes surprises the angel almost as much as Crowley. 

The Dom immediately slides from off of his mate, cupping Aziraphale’s soft cheeks in his warm palms. His golden eyes search Aziraphale’s, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that are now sliding down the blonde’s face. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley whispers. “Baby, are you alright? Did I hurt you at all?”

Aziraphale shakes his head, leaning further against his husband’s gentle touch. “No, no, not at all, my dear. Just got emotional is all. We don’t have to stop, sir.” 

Crowley gives a small, confused laugh. “I’m not going to ravish you if you’re crying, love. That’s not fun for me or for you.” 

Aziraphale blushes, reaching out to pull his mate back in. “We really don’t have to stop though, Crowley–”

“ **No**.” 

The command, deep and vibrating, sinks into Aziraphale’s skin and the submissive lays back against the pillows with a small whine. Above him, Crowley’s face is sat in a firm line, but his eyes are soft and he leans down to press a sweet kiss against Aziraphale’s temple. 

“No,” He says again once he pulls back, laying down so that he is spooned up behind his husband. “I don’t want to continue right now, angel, not if you’re upset. I love you too much to see you cry.” 

Aziraphale sinks against him with a nearly silent sigh, feeling Crowley’s arm tighten around his waist. “I love you too, dear.” 

They spend the next few hours cuddling, just breathing each other in, Crowley safe in the fact that Aziraphale is in his arms and Aziraphale safe in that fact that he’s wrapped up in Crowley’s arms. 


	18. Temptation [temp·ta·tion]: the desire to do something, especially something wrong or unwise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @walkingtrashwithanxiety: Simple idea, Crowley can barely keep is hands off Aziraphale, for multiple reasons, and Azriaphale pretends to get annoyed by it. In reality he can't get enough either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soft and sexy hell yeah ;D

* * *

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale gasps, leaning back more fully in his chair as his husband’s arms slink around the back of it, rubbing a line down the angel’s chest that the blonde can’t help but arch into. “I’m trying t-to read.” 

Crowley’s voice, smooth and deep and dripping with _promises,_ vibrates against Aziraphale’s neck as the demon brings his mouth down, to nose along the sensitive skin. 

“I’m thinking of something elssse you could be doing, dove.” Crowley hisses, nipping at the soft skin under Aziraphale’s jawline and the blonde moans. “Ssssomething more fun for the both of us, hmm?” 

Aziraphale whines, gripping his book so tightly that the paper crinkles. 

“But– _oh_ –but I wanted to finish the chapter–”

Crowley’s tongue, wet and warm and _oh so good_ , curls around the shell of the angel’s ear, twisting around so that Crowley can kiss along his temples and around his eyes, his own yellow gaze hot with adoration and lust. 

“Let me tempt you then, my angel.” Crowley whispers, breathing the words against Aziraphale’s red-tinged cheeks. 

Turning around so fast that his book flies off his lap, Aziraphale suddenly grabs the labels of his husband’s black jacket, pulling the demon so that Crowley has no choice but to basically fall into him. 

“Temptation–” Aziraphale moans, tilting his head and feeling Crowley growl in response against his throat. “–accomplished.” 


	19. Sacrifice [sac·ri·fice]: an act of slaughtering an animal or person or surrendering a possession as an offering to God or to a divine or supernatural figure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: Crowley turning into his demonic form to protect Aziraphale from Cultists who want to sacrifice him! and by @luna-the-soul-slayer who told me to expand on the prompt XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the first bit of this is gonna sound weird because I wasn't expecting to actually expand on the ask so enjoy my ramblings lol <3
> 
> the first part before the second time line is the first part of the ask where I ramble btw

* * *

bro Crowley would _FUCKING FUCK SOME SHIT UP YOOO_ he would literally take **_NO SHIT_**

like his eyes would glow and his fangs would be 3 inches long and he would hiss, standing above his mate, snarling, completely feral, spitting venom and everything.

the air around him becoming so cold and dry that ice begins to build up around his feet, the now dead grass snapping beneath his feet as his tail whips around his legs in rage, his whole frame trembling with his fury, his midnight wings crawling up the sky, making him seem even bigger and powerful and he _growls._

* * *

_“You will not–,”_ Crowley’s voice is almost unrecognizable, all bass and growl, his fangs gleaming in the light of the bonfire around them. _“–touch my mate again.”_

“Begon, demon.” One man foolishly shouts, arm trembling as he raises a rusty pitchfork in Crowley’s direction, taking a small step closer as the others around him shiver in terror. “Leave us.”

Crowley snarls, curling his body further around his mate, turning the chains and ropes holding Aziraphale to the pole into nothing more than ashes and cinder. 

He gathers his angel to his chest, a soft coo rumbling his throat when the blonde leans into his touch with a weak groan. 

The crowd of humans all collectively stumble back when Crowley stands, rising to his full height and pushing his wings upwards, the midnight black stretching into the heat filled air.

His red hair is flames, his body smoke.

_“If you insist.”_

Then he’s off, pushing into the sky with one mighty flap of his wings, taking a second to glance down at the screaming mortals below before pressing a searing kiss against his husband’s forehead and flying them off to the safety of the bookshop.


	20. Double [dou·ble]: consisting of two equal, identical, or similar parts or things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: do you have any naga!crowley headcanons? maybe something to do with👀👀👀👀 double snake.... appendages👀👀👀?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof oof I can do you one better and write a small, smutty ficlet for it XD this is literally just some double dick porn yall lol I hope you enjoy! <3

* * *

“C-Crowley–oh God, _Crowley!_ ” 

Aziraphale is moaning, nearly drooling against the soft pillow under his head as his mate leans above him, the demon’s golden eyes narrowed in pleasure. “P-Please, please– _ahh_ –” 

Crowley doesn’t answer, instead choosing to focus on the way he is angled, one of his dicks dragging along his husband’s soaking hole, smearing cum along the puckered rim, his other circling Aziraphale’s dripping cunt. 

It’s been a long time since Crowley has allowed his Naga form to fully come out, almost a good 400 years, the last being when pirates still scavenged the rocky sea shores. 

He didn’t think it would be a better time then now, on their 1st official wedding anniversary, to bring out the more _animalistic_ of his demonic forms.

Aziraphale seemed to agree and the Angel lets out a particularly high-pitched cry when Crowley suddenly speeds up. 

_“Ah, ah, ah, ah…”_

Aziraphale is whimpering, whining below him and something deep inside of Crowley rumbles in pleasure at the sight, at the sounds and the _smell_ of his mate. 

“You like this, don’t you ssssweetheart?” Crowley hisses, long tongue reaching out and tracing down his husband’s delicate neck. “You like it when I do thissss, when I-I claim you and ussse you, when you’re _mine._ ”

Aziraphale sobs, both his cunt and his ass continuing to pulse around both of Crowley’s pricks as the demon adjusts his angel _and angle_ once more.

“Sssso good, darling, so wonderful and beautiful, wrapped around both my cockssss. Such a-a good mate you are, ssweetnessss, such a g-good boy, you are– _ohh_ _Azzziraphale_ –”

“Yes! Yes, yes, _yesyesyesyes,_ please, d-don’t stop, don’t– _naghh_ –harder, _harder,_ f-faster, please– _ah_ – _please_ –”

His husband’s wish is his command, and with a snap, they are both sitting up, Aziraphale’s heaving back pressed against Crowley’s chest as the demon presses both of his dicks as deep inside his mate as physically possible.

He squishes both of their bodies together, wrapping his scale covered arms around Aziraphale and giving a firm _squeeze_. 

Crowley barely has time to lean down and gently _(always gentle)_ sink his fangs into the soft skin along Aziraphale’s neck before both him and his husband are cumming. 


	21. Return [re·turn]: come or go back to a place or person.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COMMISSION #1.
> 
> Prompt by @luna-the-soul-slayer: It falls into the A/O/B universe. Crowley and azira are mates but one day azira just goes missing.....for months. Azira finally shows back up at his alphas apartment. Turns out heaven kept azira in a room alone....for six months....through heats and anything he was isolated. So now crowley is very protective and possessive and azira is just trying to tell if this is real or another hallucination. Bonus points if crowley takes revenge!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! :D

* * *

The door in-front of Aziraphale swirls in a mix of deep brown.

Sweat sticks to the Omega’s skin, entire frame trembling as the scent,  _ Crowley’s _ scent, filters through the wood. The handle, when the blonde manages to stop his hand from trembling enough to reach out and grasp the metal, is locked.

Aziraphale whines, gritting his teeth, pulling his aching and bruised body up one last time, and brings a hand up to knock. 

It’s in that exact second that the door swings inward. 

Crowley stands there, clad in his signature black shirt and jeans. His mouth is agape, fangs gleaming, golden eyes wide in a mix of pure shock and rising fury. Aziraphale grimaces, knowing that he looks less than perfect, clothes blood stained and ripped, face dressed in a patchwork of black and blue bruises. 

“Aziraphale--?” Crowley gasps, hands reaching out, gently pulling the angel into his arms. “Oh God-Sata-Somebody,  _ Aziraphale _ , my Omega, m-my--”

The demon seems at a loss for words, a snarl rumbling his chest instead. Aziraphale finally allows himself to keen, to whimper and whine and bare his neck as his entire body sags into his Alpha’s arms. Crowley’s scent, like fire, surrounds the Omega in a haze and it’s all Aziraphale can do to breathe in as much of it as possible. 

“Aziraphale, my love, my darling.” Crowley is growling, nuzzling his mouth against his angel’s neck, kissing every single inch of skin he can reach. His arms tighten, pulling them both further into the apartment and his mate as close as possible. “Aziraphale--Azira--”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale chokes out. “ _ Alpha _ .”

The dam breaks and suddenly Aziraphale is sobbing.

He wails, smushing his face into his Alpha’s chest, clutching at the ginger’s coat with trembling and blood soaked hands. Each claw leaves a streak of gold against the black. 

“They-They--Heaven, t-they--Oh God, Alpha, Sir--” Aziraphale babbles, tears streaming down his face, distress scent soaking the air around them and Crowley nearly howls at the smell. “They locked me up, kept me- _ kept me- _ -Sir please, please--” 

“Shh, shh, baby.” Crowley coos, scooping his arms underneath Aziraphale’s trembling legs and lifting his Omega into his arms. “You’re with me, my sweet Omega. You’re home.”

“It was so  _ dark _ , Crowley, and-and I was just  _ so alone _ .” Aziraphale lets out an agonized moan, body racking with silent, choking sobs. “--Please, Alpha, I can’t-- _ I can’t _ \--”

“I’ve got you, my darling dove, I’ve got you. Alpha’s here, you’re not alone, never again. Shh, Aziraphale, please calm down, ssssweetheart.”

Nuzzling into Aziraphale’s curls, Crowley quickly transfers them to the couch, sitting down and pulling his mate back against his chest. Aziraphale hunches up, drawing his still aching body as close to his husband as possible. 

Their hearts beat in unison, each of their uneven, gasping breaths clouding the air around them. 

Crowley heals Aziraphale as much as his demonic powers will allow, cleaning his Omega up until not a speck of blood or dirt remains. Then he pushes Aziraphale until his nose is buried in his Alpha’s scent gland, his wheezing exhales tickling Crowley’s neck.

Aziraphale whines high, the sound scraping against the back of his aching throat. “Please, Sir--Crowley, p-please tell me this is real? Please--it can’t--I can’t take it if it’s another one-one of their tricks  _ please- _ -” 

Crowley feels his heart break, feels his claws sharpen and a possessive, almost feral snarl curl his lips. 

He forces his anger, his fury down, knowing that he cannot allow it to possess him. The Beast Inside, the Alpha as well as the Demon, longs to stretch his wings and take flight, to rip apart the very sky as he claws his way upwards to Heaven. 

Each star as a footstool, each sun a guiding light, blazing like the fire currently spreading throughout Crowley’s entire body. 

His blood is boiling, his tears sizzling.

“I’m real.” He says instead, lowering his lips to press soothing kisses along his mate’s hairline, feeling Aziraphale settle further into his lap. “I’m real, sweetheart. You’re home and-and you’re safe and I’m never letting anything happen to you ever again.” 

His voice cracks and the Alpha clears his throat, blinking back sudden tears as they spring to his eyes. 

Under his chin, Aziraphale coos, sensing his mate’s distress even through his own pain and Crowley can’t stop the few that finally trail down his cheeks at the sound. His chest expands with so much love and protectiveness that the demon feels as though he might drown in it.

“I’m so-so sorry, Aziraphale.” He whispers, voice raw. “I searched for you. I tore up every single part of this blasted planet looking--I tried to even crash through the gates of Heaven. I howled and-and cried--and I was just  _ so angry  _ and worried and  _ God, darling-- _ ” 

Faintly, Crowley is aware of Aziraphale weakly pressing a kiss against his knuckles but the Alpha can feel all the anger and grief and pain he has tried to hide rise up until he is all but forced to let it out in an inhuman growl, his entire being shaking from the force. 

Aziraphale whines below him and the sound sparks something in Crowley that’s impossible to ignore. 

He growls again, softer this time, gathering his mate closer, pushing his nose into Aziraphale’s neck and rubbing against his Omega’s scent glands. 

Crowley gently marks Aziraphale, trails his lips down the trembling blonde’s neck, kisses and nips at his soft and warm skin, rubs his hands across Aziraphale’s back and down his arms.

His Omega whimpers the entire time, wiggling in his lap, trying to get even closer, his own instincts begging to be taken, to be claimed and owned and  _ cherished _ . 

He’s nearly dizzy with the need and Aziraphale grits his teeth, forcing his grip against Crowley’s jacket to loosen and for his trembling to subside.

“H-How long?” Aziraphale asks, swallowing. He feels Crowley tense underneath him, chest rumbling and the Omega glances at his Alpha beneath his lashes, blinking. “Sir?” 

Crowley presses a sweet kiss against his pulse point in apology. “Six months.” 

“Oh.” 

God, it had felt  _ so much longer _ than that. 

Aziraphale shivers, curling up further in his husband’s arms, feeling Crowley sink deeper into the couch cushion. Aziraphale nuzzles against Crowley, another whine getting stuck in the back of his throat but he shoves it down with a harsh swallow. 

“I love you.” Aziraphale whispers the words, breathes them against Crowley’s heart, presses his bruised and aching cheek against his Alpha’s chest. “ _ I love you. _ ”

Crowley trembles, once, under him and Aziraphale has to blink away more tears.

“I love you too, my darling Omega.” 

A harsh kiss is pressed against Aziraphale’s temple, a claim. Aziraphale arches into the touch, butting his forehead against Crowley’s jawline, needing something-- _ anything _ . His heart aches and his hands shake as he reaches up to grab at Crowley’s jacket labels. 

“ _ Please, Sir _ \--” 

Aziraphale has barely managed to whine the word before Crowley is kissing him.

It’s rough but gentle, harsh in a way that the first rays of a sunrise peak beyond the horizon. Teeth and tongue and clashing sounds of need and desperation catching in the hollowed out space between their mouths. 

Crowley gathers Aziraphale, lifts him up with his arms around his waist and the Omega keens, his instincts high, begging and pleading with him to submit, to relax, to allow Crowley to lead and  _ protect _ . 

His body craves it, the intimacy, the feeling of Crowley, his taste, his touch. The back of Aziraphale’s neck burns, his Mating Mark searing like the blazes of Hell.

His Alpha seems to be pulled by his instincts as Aziraphale is because the demon is panting, snarling above the Omega even as his hands continue their gentle wandering. He takes Aziraphale down into another harsh kiss, his fangs nipping at the angel’s bottom lip, his forked tongue sliding along Aziraphale’s own.

“Mine.” Crowley growls, eyes blazing a golden fire. “Safe and mine.  _ Mine _ .”

Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate. Never. Not when it comes to Crowley.

“Yours. Always, forever,  _ yours _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos make my day and comments fuel my writing! :D
> 
> You can find more information about my Commissions and pricing on my Tumblr: https://top-crowley-central.tumblr.com


	22. Cut [c-ut]: make an opening, incision, or wound in (something) with a sharp-edged tool or object.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: So I'm having a shit time at school, do you think I could get some hurt/comfort? like hcs or a drabble?
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or any related materials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the fluff! <3

* * *

“ _Ow_!”

Crowley is instantly alert and sitting up at the sudden yelp from his husband, nearly slipping off the side of the couch in his haste to face the blonde.

“Ngk!” Crowley gasps, body automatically tensing as he prepares for the ‘threat’. “Angel—?”

Aziraphale, sitting in his reading chair a few feet away, is holding up a finger, a open book in his lap and his face pinched in slight pain and annoyance. Crowley feels the spike of anxiety that was starting to settle in his chest loosen slightly at the sight and he wills the blush wanting to creep up his neck back down.

“What’s wrong, dove?” Crowley asks instead, brows drawn as he leans closer and reaches out, gently gripping Aziraphale’s hand in his own. “You alright?”

“Just a paper cut, my dear.” Aziraphale hisses out a pained laugh, flinching a little when Crowley tilts his finger to get a better look. “I think I’ll survive.”

“Hmm.” Crowley dabs away the small dot of golden blood that appears, glancing up at his husband above his dark shades. “We should put a bandage on it, angel. Just in casssse.”

“Honestly, Crowley, I’m fi—“

Crowley cuts his mate off by snapping a bandaid into existence, the latex covered in small, hissing snakes. Ignoring his husband’s giggles, Crowley carefully wraps up the still bleeding finger, feeling Aziraphale sink back against his reading chair in poorly hidden relief.

“There.” The demon says once finished, bringing Aziraphale’s hand up to gently press a lingering kiss against his non-cut fingers. “All better, darling.”

Reaching out, Aziraphale gently cups Crowley’s cheek in his free hand, his palm soft against the red-head’s skin.

“Thank you, my love.” Aziraphale’s smile is like all of the stars combined, blazing and filled with a tingling warmth. “It feels much better.”


	23. Anniversary [an·ni·ver·sa·ry]: the date on which a couple was married in a previous year.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: Eh for some reason I feel like shit today but I'm not sick. If it wouldn't trouble you a soft fluffy blurb would be appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! :D

* * *

“Are you certain we are going the right way, dear?”

Turning away from the path ahead of them, Crowley chuckles slightly, watching with warm golden eyes as his husband carefully scoots around a fallen log.

They are in the back part of the St. Jame’s Park, near the far edge of the duck pond. If Crowley squints hard enough, he thinks he can catch a glimpse of the high, afternoon sun glistening off the waters to his right.

“Yes, angel.” He says instead, adjusting the picnic basket in his arms, holding out his free hand for Aziraphale to take. “Just a few minutes ahead, I promise.”

Aziraphale nods, keeps his eyes on the ground even as he grabs Crowley’s hand, his grip soft. “Yes, well, forgive me for not wanting to be out with the insects any longer than necessary.”

Crowley pauses to swat away a fly. “It’s worth it, love.”

“If it isn’t, darling, I’m going to shove you into the pond.”

Rolling his eyes under his shades, Crowley just keeps walking, leading them around another fallen log and down a small hill, making sure to keep Aziraphale from slipping.

“And—“ Cutting himself off to sweep his arm up, Crowley steps aside, allowing Aziraphale to see. “—here we are!”

Aziraphale gasps. “Oh, _Crowley_ —“

The flowers are beautiful, spreading out in every direction in the small field, blues and purples, pinks and lush greens. In the middle, a blanket already sits, having been layed out by the demon earlier that day.

Aziraphale, eyes wide, steps around Crowley, reaching out to gently brush his fingertips along the flowers as he passes. When he gets a few paces out, he turns around, looking back at his grinning husband with his mouth open in a silent gasp.

“So, what’d you think, baby?” Crowley asks, starting to walk toward Aziraphale and leading him toward the blanket.

“It’s-“ Aziraphale smiles, sitting down when his mate pats the space next to him. “It’s just wonderful, my dear. Truely magnificent.”

“Good, good. I was worried for a second, love.”

“I guess now I don’t have to throw you into the pond after all?”

Crowley laughs, breath catching at the sight of his perfect angel, his lovely, _exquisite_ Aziraphale, layed our beside him.

The sunlight overhead filters through the nearby trees, sprinkling little beams against his angel’s curls, his sparkling blue eyes reflecting the colors around them.

“Happy Anniversary, my dove.” Crowley whispers, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Aziraphale’s when the blonde pulls him closer.

Aziraphale smiles against his lips. “Happy Anniversary, darling.”

They kiss.

Sweet and slow and _beautiful_.


	24. Closed [clo-sed]: having ceased trading, especially for a short period.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: Crowley being extra possessive and protective because Aziraphale is close to heat prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

* * *

“My dear—“ Aziraphale begins, body already wracked with tremors even though his heat isn’t to begin for another few hours. “I need to close up the shop.”

Crowley growls, reluctantly ripping one hand away from his mate’s hips to snap his fingers, the sound of the door locking downstairs seeming to echo through the bookstore.

“There.” He hisses, leaning down to gently nose at his Omega’s throat, feeling Aziraphale’s pulse jump. “All closed.”

Aziraphale swallows. “But—“

“You are clossse to heat, are you not, my love?” Crowley asks around a kiss against his husband’s skin. “I can smell it on you, the want, the _desire_. All mine.”

“Alpha.” Aziraphale whines, pushing into Crowley’s mouth and body with his own. “Oh-Oh, Sir, _please_ —“

“Yesssss.” Crowley suddenly thrusts down, pinning Aziraphale against their mattress when his mate lets out a keen of pleasure and satisfaction. “Oh, yes, my darling dove, you’re _so close_. Are you sure you don’t need to do anything else?”

Aziraphale whines. “N-No, please—Crowley, _ah_ —“

The demon smirks, pulling back enough to gently spread his Omega’s legs, the slick he finds already pooling there causing his mouth to water. Pausing to let Aziraphale nod, the Alpha leans down and begins trailing kisses and nips down his angel’s stomach and thighs.

“Didn’t think so, my wonderful Omega.” Crowley hisses before dipping his head forward and shoving his tongue as far into Aziraphale as possible. “ ** _Mine_**.”

Aziraphale _screams_ in pleasure and Crowley growls.


	25. Overwhelm [o·ver·whelm]: give too much of a thing to (someone); inundate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: I really love this “sleepover” idea! So for a prompt how about how about Aziraphale safewords and Crowley gives the softest aftercare ever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt-Comfort is the BEST and I hope you enjoy this one! :)

* * *

“Eden!”

It’s out before Aziraphale can take it back and Crowley is immediately sitting up and backing away, golden eyes wide.

“Dove?” He whispers, reaching out and gently gathering his shivering mate into his arms when Aziraphale nods, tugging their blanket up from where it’s fallen to the floor. “What’s wrong?”

“Just-Just got overwhelming, my dear.” Aziraphale whispers, ducking his head in shame. “I’m sor—“

“Don’t!” Crowley hisses, pulling Aziraphale further against him, his lips pressing firmly against the angel’s forehead. “You have nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , to apologize for, okay?”

Aziraphale nods, not trusting himself to speak. Laying back against Crowley, the submissive allows his Dom to get them settled into their normal aftercare routine.

Crowley gently rubs along Aziraphale back and arms, drawing the blonde closer, mumuring under his breath the entire time. He snaps into existence a glass of water, gently sitting them both up so that Aziraphale can take a few sips.

“Alright, angel.” He whispers once Aziraphale snuggles back down. “Just lay back, settle down. You’re here with me and everything’s okay.”

And with Crowley?

Aziraphale knows it’s going to stay that way _always_.


	26. Awaken [a·wak·en]: rouse from sleep; cause to stop sleeping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: Snakes Crowley and Aziraphale romantic prompt please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea for this prompt, its adorable! <3 Enjoy!!

* * *

Crowley nuzzles closer, using his snout to gently brush along the outermost part of their nest, pushing the walls of leaves upward.

“Better, love?” He asks, watching as Aziraphale nestles closer, his mate’s white scales almost glowing in the darkness. “Might get cold tonight, don’t want you getting too chilly.”

“Yessss.” Aziraphale hisses, grinning. “Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley hums, curling up tighter around the smaller serpent, feeling Aziraphale sigh in response, his jaws twisting open in a large yawn.

“Get ssssome sleep, my angel.” Crowley whispers, tongue flicking out and gently brushing against his mate’s cheek. “I’ll keep watch until moonhigh.”

“Okay, just-“ Cutting himself off to yawn again, Aziraphale lays down and covers his eyes with his tail, feeling Crowley move impossibly closer. “—make sure to wake me up thissss time, darling.”

Crowley nods. “I promisssse.”

And if the sight of an annoyed but well-rested mate is what greets him when the sun finally rises in the morning?

The black and red snake thinks it’s a small price to pay, in the long run.


	27. Create [cre·ate]: bring (something) into existence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @sadwendigo: Crowley making Aziraphale some crepes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for spamming you all with updates haha I wrote a lot of little blurbs tonight :D

* * *

“Crowley, my dear—“

“No,no,no!” Crowley hisses, holding out the batter covered spoon in-front of him, ignoring the small splats that get on his shirt. “ _I’m_ making _you_ crepes, angel. Not the other way around.”

Aziraphale sighs, gaze alight in amusement and slight annoyance. “But if I could just help—“

“You can help me by sitting there—“ Crowley motions toward the nearest chair, flicking even more batter on his shirt and the floor. “—and looking beautiful.”

Grinning at the high blush that covers his husband’s cheeks, Crowley turns back around after a second. He hears Aziraphale sigh again before the sound of the chair sliding back and his angel sitting down is heard and the demon smirks again.

“Why in Heaven’s name did you decide to actually _make_ me crepes, darling?” Aziraphale asks after a few minutes. “Wouldn’t, I don’t know, willing them into existence be a lot easier?”

Looking up from his mixing bowl, Crowley reaches up with his sleeve to push his hair from his eyes, blinking at his mate over the counter.

Aziraphale seems to have followed his instructions to a tee because, even sitting there in his night shirt with his hair a mess, and miss-matched socks on his feet, Crowley has never been more in love with him.

Setting down his spoon once the batter settles on the stove again, Crowley carefully slithers the few feet to stand next to Aziraphale, watching as his husband’s lovely blue eyes gaze up at him. The light above him catches in his blonde curls, lighting up like literal halo.

“Because,” Leaning down, Crowley presses his next words against Aziraphale’s soft cheek, feeling his angel wrap his arms around his waist in response. “I love you and I want you to have the _very best things_ in the universe. Even if that means I have to make every single thing by hand for the rest of eternity.”

“Crowley—“ Aziraphale sighs. “Oh, thank you, my dear, that’s lovely.”

Aziraphale snuggles further in Crowley’s embrace and the demon nearly chokes on the love that rises up his throat. Instead, he presses a series of sweet kisses against Aziraphale’s forehead and face, trailing down until he reaches his angel’s lips.

They meet in the middle, soft and as natural to them both as flying.

Pulling back, Crowley reaches down and pulls Aziraphale so that his mate is half on his lap, feeling the blonde whine when Crowley gently grazes his throat with his teeth.

“Crowley, Crowley, darling—“ Aziraphale says, looking like Heaven’s greatest temptation when Crowley finally manages to lean back enough to study his face again.

“Yessss, my dove?”

Aziraphale suddenly glances behind Crowley, eyes widening. “You might want to re-evaluate the whole ‘making me everything from scratch’ bit from earlier.”

Crowley frowns. “Why?”

“The crepes are burning.”

Whipping around, Crowley let’s out a yelp of alarm at the smoke now emitting from the stove, carefully keeping his husband behind him in case the batter decides to actually catch fire. Grabbing a towel from the rack, the demon makes quick work of turning off the shove.

Once the mess is cleaned, Crowley turns back towards a giggling Aziraphale, feeling more embarrassed now than anything.

“Ssssorry, baby.” He hisses, throwning the dirty and char stained rag into the sink. “Guess we got distracted, huh?”

“Oh, yes, yes indeed.” Aziraphale nods, eyes sparking in mirth. “In fact, this whole ordeal was-was sort of traumatic, I might say.”

Crowley walks back to stand against his husband, feeling the blonde sink against his side once more. Aziraphale, eyes never leaving Crowley’s face, begins to trail his hand downwards.

“Is that ssso, love?” Crowley asks, breath hitching.

Aziraphale nods, tilting his head to the side and exposing his pale neck. Crowley’s mouth waters at the sight.

“Yes, it would seem so.” Aziraphale continues, batting his eyes and his sinful, glorious hand continues to trail down and down _and down_. “I might-might need a distraction from it, all those delicious crepes, gone to waste.”

Crowley swallows. “I-I can do that, yeah.”

Aziraphale pushes himself against him, legs parting on either side of Crowley’s thighs, the demon reaching down to gently, carefully pull his smirking, minx of a husband fully into his arms.

The weight of him, the feel of Aziraphale’s heat and the scent of his body is enough to drive Crowley feral.

“Show me what else those hands can do, my dear.”

And Crowley does.


	28. Accidental [ac·ci·den·tal]: happening by chance, unintentionally, or unexpectedly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: Omg a little blurb on how Artemis got her scar as a baby, I know she flew into a doorframe but I can’t imagine how worried Zira and Crowley would be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory: Artemis Crowfell is a fanmade Ineffable Child created by me on my Tumblr blog. She's around the human age/mentality of 6-7-years-old in this story and the hybrid (half demon, half angel) age of 56-57-years-old. She has strawberry blonde, curly hair and snake slitted, blue eyes. 
> 
> Aziraphale carried her in his belly for 9-months and is therefore called "Mum". Crowley is her Dad. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! :D If you want to know more about her, feel free to send me questions here or on my Tumblr!

* * *

They hear the dull thud before anything else.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley freeze, the demon nearly falling off the side of the couch as he flinches. They look at each other, their eyes wide and Aziraphale opens his mouth, setting down his cup.

As suddenly as the thud was heard, a shrill shriek of pain sounds and the parents jump up as one. 

Crowley’s in the kitchen first, fangs bared and yellow eyes blazing a sort of fury Aziraphale has so rarely seen. The angel feels his own protective nature begin to fizzle in his center and he nearly snarls in maternal rage himself.

What he actually finds nearly knocks him off his feet, however.

“Artemis?!” Crowley gasps and Aziraphale feels his blood run cold as he takes in the sight. “Oh, _baby–_ ”

Their daughter is laying on the floor right below the doorframe, her small, gray wings tucked against her back as she silently sobs. Silver blood drips from a deep gash in her forehead, spearing across the tile. 

At the sound of her name, the little girl blinks open her blue eyes, more tears slipping free and she sobs openly, small frame shuddering. 

“Daddy!” She cries, curling into Crowley as he scoops her up, motioning with one hand for Aziraphale to grab a clothe from the sink. “I’m s-sorry, so sorry! It hurts! Hurts, p-please!”

“I know, baby girl, I know.” Crowley whispers, gently brushing her hair from her face, his face creased in pain. “Me and Mummy are gonna make it better though, love, shhh. Calm down, little one.” 

As though the mention of her mother strikes a cord, Artemis starts sobbing even harder, little hands reaching out in Aziraphale’s general direction.

“Mama! _Mummy–_ ” 

Feeling his heart break, Aziraphale quickly transfers the towel to his husband, gently taking their daughter from him. Crowley pauses for only a split second to press a kiss against both their heads, before he’s pulling back and carefully dabbing Artemis’s still bleeding temple. 

“I’m here, darling.” Aziraphale whispers, sitting cross-legged on the ground and pulling Artemis closer. “Mama’s here, darling girl. Shh, you’ve got to calm down, my love, you’re going to make yourself faint. Breathe, breathe.”

Taking deep, demonstrative breathes, Aziraphale finally manages to get Artemis, and himself to an extent, to calm down. Artemis, bless her little heart, sniffles, small fingers curling around the collar of Aziraphale’s jacket. 

The angel lifts up one of her hands, pressing butterfly kisses against her knuckles. Beside him, he can feel Crowley let out a shuttering sigh and Aziraphale reaches over to press one to his mate’s hand as well. 

Her head stops bleeding after a few more pats and Crowley frowns in concentration as he presses a small, snake covered bandaid against the gash, kissing the cut.

“Alright.” Crowley hisses after a few seconds, taking a seat behind Aziraphale and carefully gathering his angel and daughter against his chest. “Alright, everything’s okay now, let’s all just calm down, my doves.” 

Both Aziraphale and Artemis nod, the latter’s eyes slipping shut as she sinks further into her mother’s lap, thumb getting shoved into her mouth. Aziraphale coos, gently brushing the dried tears from her chubby cheeks, wishing her into a deep, warm sleep at the same time.

She’s out like a light, breath evening out. 

Both parents sigh in relief, falling against each other with natural ease.

Above Artemis, Crowley and Aziraphale exchange glances, knowing they are going to have to have many, _many_ long talks about the differences between flying _with them_ and flying _without them_ around the house. 

And many, _many_ more arguments about where her stubborn streak comes from.

It’s from Aziraphale, but for him to actually admit it out-loud?

Kind of proves the point.


	29. Tied [ti-ed]: attach or fasten (someone or something) with string or similar cord.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COMMISSION #3.
> 
> Prompt by the wonderful @tomato-bitch: Any chance you'd like to write Crowley/Aziraphale in a cowboy-esque historical setting. Aziraphale would appreciate Crowley in a cowboy hat I reckon ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or any related materials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoy! :D

* * *

The door to the platoon bursts open and Aziraphale doesn’t even have to glance up from his whisky to know that it’s Crowley. 

Waiting until his husband manages to weave around the tables separating the bar from the front of the store, Aziraphale sets down his glass, shivering as he feels the demon’s sharp yellow gaze rank across his body. 

Reaching up, the angel tugs a little on the red bandana hugging his neck, throat bobbing.

“Hello, love.” Crowley’s voice is deep, husky, his long arms reaching out to encircle Aziraphale’s waist when he gets close enough. “Enjoying the drinks?”

Aziraphale nods, leaning back in his stool to rest his body fully against the red-heads, feeling Crowley’s grip tighten. “Yes, yes, my dear, they are quite refreshing.”

“Good.” Crowley hisses, leaning forward until his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of Aziraphale’s neck. The angel shivers. “Only the best for my husband, hmm?” 

Aziraphale bites his lip, resisting the urge to whimper with sudden need. He takes a second to compose himself, swallowing down the rest of his drink with a speed that has Crowley whistling. Turning around in the demon’s arms, Aziraphale feels his throat go dry as he finally sees just what his mate is wearing. 

A dark button-up shirt, the collar stained a deep red, accents Crowley’s toned chest. A matching set of equally dark jeans sit low on his hips, hugging his trim legs in a way that Aziraphale can’t help but admire. 

He looks positively  _ fetching _ .

Clearly catching the way his angel is ogling him, Crowley grins, fangs sharp. He reaches up, tipping the front of his silver cow-boy in a little dip. Aziraphale’s blushes, trying to ignore the heat now pooling deep in his belly. 

“Would you--” Aziraphale cuts the demon off before he could make a witty remark, holding out his empty glass. “--Would you care for a-a drink, darling?” 

“Naw.” Crowley’s hand comes around, gently caressing the flesh of Aziraphale’s upper thigh through his pants. “I can think of ssssomething much more. . . _ appetizing _ right about now.”

_ Oh. _ Aziraphale swallows again, his trousers suddenly almost unbearably tight.  _ Oh yes.  _

“Really?” He says instead, his own hand reaching up and gently caressing his mate’s cheek, watching as Crowley’s golden eyes darken in desire behind his thin shades. “And just what sounds better than alcohol, darling?”

Aziraphale is suddenly spun around in his chair, his small yelp of alarm getting cut off as Crowley launches forward, attacking the underside of the blonde’s jaw in nips and harsh kisses.

“Oh, I think you know. Look at you, darling, sitting here in this pub, surrounded by all of these rugged men, dressed up in  _ my colors _ with my scent around you. So beautiful and exquisite and  _ all mine. _ ” 

The demon chuckles when he pulls back, his arms now braced on either side of Aziraphale’s stool, effectively trapping the angel against his chest and the table. 

Aziraphale moans softly at the subtle display of dominance, tilting his neck. 

“Oh, _ baby _ .” Crowley coos, leaning in close, his lips barely brushing against Aziraphale’s. “Do you want me to take you upstairs, hmm? Rent a room and have my way with you, take you apart piece by piece until I have ripped that insanely  _ sexy _ outfit to shreds?” 

Ah, so Crowley  _ had  _ noticed.

“Yes.” Aziraphale breathes, wiggling a little. “Oh, yes, my dear, I would like that very much.”

Face heating, Aziraphale doesn’t back down, however. He meets his husband’s gaze head on, feeling his lust and desire circulate in the air around them, knowing that the scent of it must be driving his demon mad. 

He can tell the exact second Crowley catches a whiff because they are suddenly moving, zooming past the stunned customers and cowboys, into a miraculously empty hotel room just up the stairs. 

Crowley slams the door shut, ignoring how the walls shake. He, Aziraphale still in his arms and his lips still attached to his husband’s neck, walks them over to the bed. 

He snaps away their clothes as they go, Aziraphale shivering slightly in the chilly air. The angel briefly pauses to mourn the loss of his husband’s wonderful outfit before he’s caught up once more in the whirl of desire.

With a low growl, the ginger has his mate pinned against the mattress, his legs draped over the blonde’s and his hands gently holding Aziraphale’s hands above his head. 

“Now,” Crowley pants, pulling back just enough to admire the dark hickey that now stands out against Aziraphale’s pale skin. He suddenly grinds down, pressing his hips into Aziraphale and the angel keens in pleasure. “How can we make this more interesting?”

He’s reaching around before Aziraphale can answer, pulling out a lasso from seemingly nowhere. He pulls it taunt, stretching the surprisingly soft fabric in-between them with a sharp grin. Aziraphale moans at the sight, desperately trying to thrust upwards against his mate’s hips, letting out a whine when Crowley just tuts, holding him down tighter. 

“You’ve gotta be a good boy, sssweetheart.” The demon says, gently pushing himself off of Aziraphale, pressing a small, grateful kiss to his cheek when his husband manages to stay still. “I’m gonna tie you up so beautifully, my dove. Flip you over and-and taste every single square inch of you until you’re just begging me to fuck you, to  _ fill you _ . Does this sssound okay?” 

“Yes!” Aziraphale sobs, his dick now so hard that it’s almost painful, brushing against the sheets when he allows Crowley to carefully turn him over. “Please, please- _ -ahh--Crowley-- _ ”

“Shhh, love.” Crowley hisses, patting Aziraphale’s ass when he finally has his angel on his stomach, checking to make sure that the pillow underneath is situated correctly. “I’m gonna make you feel ssso good, Aziraphale. Color?”

“Green! Very _ \--ahh- _ -very green!” 

Crowley smiles. “Then let's get started!”

With a snap of his fingers, the lasso is wrapped gently around Aziraphale’s legs and wrists, pinning him to the bedposts with his legs spread. Crowley growls possessively at the view, adjusting the pillow underneath his mate’s delicious ass. 

Reaching down, the demon pumps his rock-hard dick with quick jerks of his wrists, coating his fingers in his pre-come.

Then he’s leaning forward, pushing both his forked tongue and his slicked fingers as far into his wiggling, moaning mate as possible, groaning himself at the feeling of Aziraphale’s warm, perfect walls clenching around him. 

“ _ Ah, ah, ah-- _ ” Aziraphale is panting, thrusting upwards as far as his restraints will allow, his head thrown back and his eyes rolling in ecstasy. He’s the most beautiful thing Crowley has ever seen. “Gah,  _ Crowley! _ ” 

“Yes!” 

Crowley snarls when he pulls back after a second, locking eyes with Aziraphale, finally giving in and thrusting against the side of the mattress in-front of him. It’s not enough, nothing like the wonderful heat of his mate and the demon has to shake himself to keep from howling as his insides burn with the need to mark and claim and cherish. 

Instead he continues, panting as his head spins with desire and overwhelming love. “Yes! Scream my name, angel, show everyone who was ogling you,  _ every single person _ who dared to think they had even a-a slightest  _ chance _ to see your smile or feel your perfect mouth around their cocks that  _ you are mine _ .  **_Scream my name._ ** ”

And Aziraphale does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find more information about commissions and pricings at my Tumblr: https://top-crowley-central.tumblr.com


	30. Unprotected [un·pro·tect·ed]: not protected or kept safe from harm or injury.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence Prompt by @anon: “My pretty dove why are you crying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

Crowley’s barely walked into the bookshop before he’s assaulted by the smell.

The scent of his angel’s distress pours out of the back room and the Alpha snarls in rage, his claws and fangs decending. He makes it to the back of the store in record time, shoving the door open with a low, growl, hunching over in an attack position.

He straightens back up, however, at the sight that greets him.

Aziraphale is sitting on the ground near his desk, knees pulled up to his chest. His body is heaving with silent sobs and Crowley feels his heart break.

“Oh, my love.” The demon coos, sitting down beside his mate and pulling Aziraphale back against his chest, feeling his angel’s delicate hands clutch at his jacket. “My sweet, sweet Omega. **My darling dove, why are you crying,** hmm? Can you talk to me, sweetheart?”

“I-I—“ Aziraphale chokes, whining and burrowing further into his mate’s strong, protective hold. “I’ sorry, s-so sorry—“

“Hush,” Crowley whispers, one hand coming up to gently cup his Omega’s soft, tear-streaked cheek. “It’s alright, baby. It’s okay, take your time.”

Inside, the Beast is raging, howling, clawing at his chest, to escape and punish, _destroy_ whoever made his Omega cry.

For now though, he just settles in pressing soothing kisses along Aziraphale’s jawline and temples, across his forehead and against the tip of his bottom nose.

“They came down here.” Aziraphale finally whispers, voice breaking. Crowley’s chest rumbles in a growl, gathering his Omega even closer. “The Archangels, all o-of them. They-They laughed at me, called m-me fat, shamed me for loving Earth– _for loving you_ and I can’t, Alpha, I can’t–”

Crowley feels his heart break.

He leans down, tilting his wonderful, beautiful husband’s chin up until the blonde has no choice but to face him directly, his lovely blue eyes clouded in unshed tears. 

His lips tremble against Crowley’s. 

“You are exquisite.” Crowley says when they pulls back, resting his forehead against his mate’s. He cups Aziraphale’s cheek in his free hand, brushing over his skin with a thumb. “You are the most lovely, darling creature to ever gaze upon the stars and I want to _kill_ whoever made you think differently. I would rip them apart in a second, my love, if you asked me to.” 

“I know.” Aziraphale responds, tilting his neck to the side when Crowley gently noses along his scent gland. “I have no shame when it comes to loving you. Never have, never will.”

His Alpha gently nips along his jawline in response, the feeling of his sharp fangs against his sensitive neck causing Aziraphale to whine. 

Crowley’s anger, his possessiveness and his overwhelming panic _–his mate was hurt, his mate was unprotected and attacked in their nest, **their den** and now he’s crying and scared and **no no no** Crowley **can’t** think about that because then he’ll go **feral** and he can’t right now, not when Aziraphale needs him so–_ shakes the very room, the shadows gathering closer, the scent of him stark and deeply engraved in all the pockets and crevises. 

Instead, Crowley gathers his husband closer, looping his arms around his waist and drawing him upwards, pulling Aziraphale until the Omega is completely in his lap. 

His mouth trials downwards, sucking and marking Aziraphale’s neck and collarbone until the Omega grinds down slightly, moaning. 

“I love you, my darling, dearest dove, my one true, my angel, more than there are stars in the night sky.” Crowley whispers against Aziraphale’s skin, his voice deep and rumbling, filling his chest. “ _I love you._ ” 

He moves back upwards, branding his words with a deep kiss against his Omega’s lovely lips. 

Aziraphale responds in kind, his grip on Crowley’s shoulders never relenting. “I love you too, my demon, my darling Serpent of Eden, my one true, more than there are words to describe. _Thank you._ ”

Crowley just kisses him harder. 


	31. Clarify [clar·i·fy]: make (a statement or situation) less confused and more clearly comprehensible.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence Prompt by @anon: Aziraphale’s face was scarlet as he squirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the porn! ;D
> 
> **Aziraphale has a vulva**

* * *

“C-Crowley— _ah_ —“ He whines, feeling his husband shift from his place in-between his legs. “Please. _Please_.”

Crowley, with one final swipe of his tongue, sits back, licking his lips. His golden eyes are alight in desire and slight mirth and he coos, bringing the hand that wasn’t gripping Aziraphale’s trembling thigh up to press along his wet folds. Aziraphale sucks the finger up with ease, and the ginger feels his own cock drip at the beautiful sight.

“Pleasssse what?” He hisses, voice a low, deep rumble. Aziraphale moans. “Tell me what you want, dove.”

Aziraphale scoots himself closer, practically forces his mate’s face into his throbbing center and Crowley slots back into place with practiced ease. His answering chuckle vibrates Aziraphale’s cunt and the blonde fists the sheets around him in a tight grip, eyes rolling. His walls clench at the same time and the angel nearly sobs at the emptiness.

“ _Tell me_.” Crowley orders, his grips gentle even as he grabs onto his husband’s legs again, carefully pushing his thick thighs apart, shifting even closer. “Can you be a good boy, darling?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale moans. “Yes, p-please- _gah_ —“

Crowley just swipes his tongue against Aziraphale’s walls and the angel keens. Feeling desperate, Aziraphale suddenly leans forward and reaches down, practically dragging his mate so that the demon is on-top of him, his lean, firm body pressing Aziraphale hard against the mattress.

“ _Fuck me._ ” Aziraphale pleads, grinding his dripping pussy against Crowley’s dick, feeling his husband’s entire body shiver above him. “M-Make me yours— _ah—“_

Crowley growls, his fangs gleaming in a wicked smile. “With pleasssure, my love.”


	32. Riptide [rip·tide]: a strong current caused by tidal flow in confined areas such as inlets and presenting a hazard to swimmers and boaters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: (Pet name anon here) Maybe something soft cuz I need some light in my life 😭. It’s early morning, it’s a cool spring day and the sunrise is filling A&C’s bedroom as they wake up. Crowley wakes up to immediately fall in love with Zira all over again, (Zira always looks precious when he first wakes up) and Crowley just smothers Zira with sweet kisses as Zira does the same to him. They bask in each other’s love ‘til they hear tiny footsteps running to their bedroom. 1/2 
> 
> (Pet name anon) SORRY I CANT CONDENSE THINGS 😭💀 But little Artemis eventually joins them in bed and they all cuddle together cuz she didn’t want to be alone in her room waiting for them to get up 🥺❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory: Artemis Crowfell is a fanmade Ineffable Child created by me on my Tumblr blog. She's around the human age/mentality of 6-7-years-old in this story and the hybrid (half demon, half angel) age of 56-57-years-old. She has strawberry blonde, curly hair and snake slitted, blue eyes.
> 
> Aziraphale carried her in his belly for 9-months and is therefore called "Mum". Crowley is her Dad.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! :D If you want to know more about her, feel free to send me questions here or on my Tumblr!

* * *

Crowley, blinking in the golden light of the rising sun slithering between the cracks of their blinds, props himself on his elbows to gaze down at his husband. 

Aziraphale is still asleep, curled under the covers with his head cushioned against Crowley’s chest, right above the demon’s heart. Crowley knows a smile is stretching his lips, can feel the giddy, butterfly inducing love bloom in his chest and finds that he doesn’t mind the way his whole body tingles. 

Crowley has never, and  _ will never _ , love another the way he loves Aziraphale.

It’s all consuming, as deep and as powerful as an ocean current.

He gently gathers his mate closer, pressing sweet kisses against his soft hair and even softer cheeks, feeling Aziraphale’s long lashes flutter against his own when his angel blinks slowly awake.

“Wha–?” He yawns, bringing his arms up above his head for a stretch before gently cupping Crowley’s cheek. His beautiful blue eyes are wide, the early morning light catching in the depths and Crowley feels himself fall all over again. “Darling? Everything alright?” 

The ginger nods, leaning into the touch, his husband’s wedding band cool against his skin. “Yess, my dove, everything’s just-just  _ wonderful _ .”

Aziraphale smiles and the whole world seems to glow even brighter. 

“Good.” The angel breathes as he leans forward, his wonderful, pink lips ghosting over Crowley’s and the demon growls silently in pleasure. “Good,  _ mph _ –”

Suddenly, Crowley jerks forward the last few centimeters, catching his husband’s lips with his own, hands reaching out and pulling Aziraphale closer, wrapping around his mate’s soft waist. Aziraphale moans into the kiss, their tongues dancing, his little sounds of pleasure catching in the back of his throat. 

Finally, they pull back just enough to rest their foreheads together, Crowley holding Aziraphale tighter in his arms and Aziraphale cupping his husband’s face in both hands. 

“Good morning, my dear.” The angel giggles, face scrunching when Crowley gently kisses his nose. “Feeling affectionate today, I see.”

“Alwaysss.” Crowley hisses, drinking in the sight of his angel wrapped up in their bedsheets, his fluffy hair a mess and one delicate hand moving from Crowley’s face to rub at his eyes. “What do you think about pancakes for breakfast, love?”

Aziraphale’s face brightens and the demon grins in pride. “I would like that very much, darling. Thank you.” 

“Can-Can I have some too?” 

Both parents look toward their door, watching as their daughter pokes her head around the frame, her strawberry-blonde hair wild and her stuffed snake clutched in one arm. 

“Of course, little one.” Aziraphale coos, holding out his free hand. “Come here.”

Artemis blinks as she steps closer, pulling her thumb from her mouth. She nearly trips on the tail of her snake and Crowley catches her before she can hit the ground, scooping her into the bed with a small, fake grunt of effort that has the little girl giggling. 

“You’re getting so heavy, Art.” Crowley laughs, tickling her belly. “My big girl already!”

Artemis, still laughing, shakes her head as she crawls over Crowley’s legs, away from her father’s wiggling fingers. She settles in Aziraphale’s lap, scooting until she’s pressed against his chest, blinking up at him. 

“No!” She whines, blue eyes wide. “Not-Not too big. Daddy’s lying, right Mama?”

“Of course, my love.” Aziraphale says, visibly struggling to not laugh. Crowley glares at him and the angel clears his throat, reaching down to gently brush a stray curl away from his daughter’s forehead. “You’ll always be our little fledgling.”

“That’s right.” Crowley agrees, curling his body around both his doves. “Daddy was only kidding, baby girl.”

Artemis sniffs, seeming to contemplate in her toddler-mind the accuracy of Crowley’s words. Her button nose scrunches, her freckles crinkling and Crowley is suddenly  _ reminded so much of Aziraphale _ that it takes his unneeded breath away. 

Said angel only smiles down at their dramatic daughter, giving Crowley  _ a look _ that clearly says he thinks that this is all Crowley’s doing. 

Crowley just shoots him a smile so clearly filled with adoration that Aziraphale blushes, looking back down at their baby when Artemis gently tugs on his shirt collar. 

“Can we go get pancakes now, Mummy?” She whispers, side-eyeing her Dad when Crowley snorts. “I-I’m not too big for pancakes, right?”

“Never.” Aziraphale says, settling Artemis on his hip as he carefully scoots out of Crowley’s hold, pressing a sweet kiss against his now pouting mate’s forehead as he goes. “Daddy’s going to make some for all three of us, promise.”

Crowley lets out a groan, flopping backwards into the ruffled sheets. “Guess that’s my cue, huh?”

Aziraphale reaches over to gently pat his cheek. “It appears so, darling. The early bird catches the worm, after all.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes!” 

Artemis cheers as both her and Aziraphale start toward the kitchen and Crowley sighs, sitting back up in bed in-time to watch as they exit. His gaze lingers on the gentle sway of his husband’s hips in his pajama pants and Crowley can’t resist the urge to lick his lips.

Oh, yes, he’s absolutely going to be eating  _ something _ later today.

“Come on, Daddy!” Artemis suddenly shouts from the other room and the demon shakes himself. “We want pancakes!”

Crowley hears Aziraphale suck in a gasp. “Artemis, that’s not the polite way to ask for things! What do we say?”

“Uh,  _ now _ ?” 

“What? No!”

Crowley barks out a laugh, grabbing his standard black shirt from the floor and slipping it over his head, stretching out his back in a stretch as he goes. His spine pops with an audible crack and Crowley grunts in pleasure. 

Scratching at the back of his neck, he finally makes his way down the hall and in the kitchen, halting at the icy glare his husband is shooting him. 

The blonde is standing in-front of the tea cup cabinet, clearly trying to reach one of his favorites Crowley had mistakenly put on the top shelf. Too prideful to just miracle it down, the angel resorts to glaring both up at the mug and at his husband when Crowley finally arrives.

“Have you been teaching our daughter bad manners?”

Crowley’s eyes widen and he sputters, going over to the fridge and reaching inside, pulling out the creamer. He presses a kiss against Artemis’s head as he passes back by her, her resulting smile causing his chest to tighten.

“Me? Bad manners? Naw, my dove, never.”

“Uh-huh.” Aziraphale raises an eyebrow. “Right.”

“Need help, baby?” Crowley asks when his husband continues to study him, gently resting a hand against Aziraphale’s hip and scooting him to the side in-order to get to the cabinet. 

The blonde huffs in annoyance but Crowley sees right through his ‘holier than thou’ facade. Reaching up, the ginger effortlessly grabs the cup, feeling Aziraphale shiver when Crowley’s chest brushes against his back. 

“Here you go, my love.” Crowley whispers, handing the mug to his mate, watching as Aziraphale pupils dilate in desire. “You can thank me for that later, hm?”

Visibly shaking himself when Crowley presses a kiss against his head, Aziraphale makes quick work of fixing himself a cup of coco, putting some leftover marshmallows on Artemis’s plate when his daughter shoots him her best puppy dog look. 

Crowley watches, his heart light, before he quickly starts preparing their breakfast, snapping the batter into existence when his husband’s back is turned. The fluffy pancakes are poured, flipped and settled onto a plate before Artemis can shout for them again and both Crowley’s ears and nerves are grateful.

“Now, Artemis.” Crowley starts as he sits down with the platter, watching with barely held-back mirth as his daughter glances up from her marshmallows. He hands her a pancake, and she takes a big bite before Aziraphale can cut it up. “What do we say when we ask for things?”

“This again?” She starts to roll her eyes but a stern look from her mother from his place at the sink has her slumping down, pushing around a stray mellow with a finger. “We say please.”

“That’s right.” Aziraphale says as he comes around, a warm rag in hand. He gently reaches out, tilting Artemis’s chin up with his fingers, motioning with his others for her to keep her mouth closed. “And what do we say right now, little one, for the attitude?”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” The little girl says once Aziraphale finishes cleaning her off. She turns toward Crowley after a second, her blue eyes wide. “I’m s-sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean to be-be dis-dis--”

“Disrespectful.” Aziraphale corrects, wiggling a little. “Good word, honey. We’ll work on that later, for now, eat.”

Artemis happily complies and all of her breakfast is gone before Aziraphale has even finished his cup of hot chocolate. Handing her a cup of orange juice, Crowley carefully wipes down her fingers and face again with the now cooled off rag, throwing it in the sink. 

“Can I go play?” She asks, adding a hasty “Please?” when Aziraphale shoots her a look.

“I suppose.” The angel sighs, adjusting his reading glasses on his nose. Crowley reaches over, gently squeezing his husband’s thigh under the table and Aziraphale jumps, glaring at the red-head over his frames. “No flying, though, dearest.” 

“Yes, Mummy.” Artemis chimes before she’s helped down from the table by Crowley’s careful hands, pattering off toward the living room without a backwards glance. 

“Lord help us.” Aziraphale says once she’s out of ear-shot, sinking against his husband when the demon sits down beside him. “You really haven't been teaching her bad manners, right?” 

“Course not, dove.” Crowley hisses, wrapping an arm around his mate’s waist and pulling the angel so that he’s basically in his lap, his hand traveling down to gently squeeze Aziraphale ass. The blonde starts at the feeling but relaxes after a second, entire frame shivering when Crowley leans forward. “But do you want to, I don’t know, finish what we started earlier?”

“What?” Aziraphale asks, but obediently tilts his head to the side when Crowley noses along his jaw, exposing his pale neck to his now desire-filled husband. “You might _ \--ahh-- _ you might have to remind me, my dear. What were we-we doing again exactly?” 

“Ah, of coursssse.” Crowley laughs softly, the sound deep in his chest, rusty and mellow. Aziraphale’s lips part in a silent moan, his throat bobbing against Crowley’s lips. “Still have a pregnancy brain, my love?” 

Aziraphale opens his mouth, most likely to report something bitchy back but the words get cut off when Crowley sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin right below his jawline. The angel does whimper this time, a barely-there sound but Crowley hears him just the same. His whole being sparks in desire and love and the demon growls.

He’s just about to lean back, to press a heated kiss against his husband’s lips, when Artemis suddenly shouts from the living room.

“I can’t find my green marker!” 

Pulling back with a sigh, Crowley wiggles his eyebrows at his gasping mate, watching in amusement as the blonde attempts to straighten his shirt from where he was pressed against Crowley. His lips are red, kiss-bruised and his eyes glazed and Crowley has to bite his tongue to keep from launching himself back over the kitchen and attacking his husband’s exquisite body with his teeth once more.

Instead, he laughs, leaning against the doorframe when he finally reaches it. “Later, ssssweetheart. For now, duty calls.” 

Aziraphale’s answering grunt of annoyance chimes right in time with Artemis’s screech of delight when her father holds up the lost marker and Crowley feels another smile brighten his face. 

The riptide’s pulling him in and Crowley’s never really been much of a swimmer. 


	33. Conceal [con·ceal]: keep (something) secret; prevent from being known or noticed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @walkingtrashwithanxiety: Aziraphale is called too 'emotional' by the archangels. They demean him for crying or feeling anything really. So, give it long enough and Aziraphale begins to stuff down his emotions. Really sad because you can't love your demon the way you want? Well let's cover that up with a smile because we can't let people know we feel! So by the time Armageddon didn't happen, Aziraphale hasn't let himself feel in so long he's forgotten how to feel in a way. Lucky him he has a demon who will help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff + Angst = This :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

* * *

“I love you.” Crowley says, watching with his heart in his throat as Aziraphale’s beautiful blue eyes fill with frustrated tears.

They don’t fall, however. They never do.

“I love you.” Aziraphale responds, but he sounds confused, scared. His grip on Crowley’s hands tighten and the demon squeezes back. “I-I—“

“No, dove.” Crowley shakes his head, forcing Aziraphale to look him in the eye. “Mean it.”

“I _do_ mean it.” The angel— _his_ angel—pleads, his normally rosy cheeks pale, his frame shaking. “I swear to you, Crowley, I mean it with _every single fiber_ of my essence.”

 _I know_. Crowley thinks, swallowing. _I know and I’m so sorry those bastards never gave you a chance to show it._

“Try again, my darling.” He says instead, making sure to keep his voice soft and soothing. Aziraphale leans more heavily against him and the ginger drapes an arm across his waist. “I love you.”

Crowley, after pressing a sweet kiss against his angel’s knuckles, raises both their joined hands, placing them against Aziraphale’s chest, right above his rapidly beating heart. Aziraphale gathers a breath, pushes it out slowly.

“I love you.” Finally, the blonde lets out a deep sob. “I love you, I love you, _I love you._ ”

Aziraphale allows himself to cry then. He breaks down for the first time in a millennia, held tightly against Crowley’s chest, dampening the demon’s shirt with his tears. Crowley shushes him, rocks them back and forth, presses kisses against Aziraphale’s forehead and cheeks.

His love’s tears burn his lips but it’s nothing compared to the pain tearing into Crowley’s own heart.

“I love you too, baby.” He whispers between Aziraphale’s cries, making sure his angel hears him each time. “ _I love you too._ ”


	34. Distraction [dis·trac·tion]: a thing that prevents someone from giving full attention to something else.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word prompt by @anon: Chores, smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! :)

* * *

Aziraphalenearly jumps off his ladder at the sudden feeling of Crowley’s bare chest against his back. 

“Hello, angel.” The demon hisses, tongue flicking out to gently graze against the shell of Aziraphale’s ear. The blonde shivers, placing the books he was attempting to organize on the shelf to his right. “Having fun, I ssssee.”

Aziraphale snorts, the sound quickly turning into a choked off moan when Crowley grips his waist, helping him to turn around so that he’s facing the ginger. “A b-blast, darling. Just _–oh–_ just tickety boo.” 

“Good, good.” Crowley grins, stepping onto the ladder so that he’s pressed right against Aziraphale. “Need any help?”

“What?” Aziraphale shakes his head, reluctantly turning away from the desire filled eyes of his mate, Crowley’s normally golden gaze burning with lust. “N-No, my dear, I am quite-quite alright.” 

Crowley’s suddenly reaching around, gripping one of Aziraphale’s asscheeks in a hand, pressing their hips together with a growl of pleasure. Aziraphale moans fully this time, head tilting obediently to the side when his husband noses along his jaw. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to–” Crowley says against his neck, his fangs teasing along the milky smooth skin. His grip on Aziraphale tightens and the angel keens, suddenly glad that the ladder they are on is miracled to always stay upright. “–help you get to those hard to reach placessss?” 

Aziraphale just sinks further into his husband’s arms and Crowley answering chuckle of pleasure lights his whole body on fire. 


	35. Longing [long·ing]: a yearning desire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word prompt by @anon: Masquerade, angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is angst but also kind of soft?? Idk enjoy! :D

* * *

They’re dancing.

It’s nighttime. The stars above them manage to slip through the cracks, barely visible through the haze of glistening candle light surrounding the dance floor. 

It’s a mortal party, one of the finest they have been to in a long time. The spring air around them is sweet, bringing the scent of fresh roses and clean lawns. The band is playing, some sort of thumping tune with a lot of drums and piano, but they have no feeling but for the body in their arms. 

The blonde sighs. His face is itchy under his mask, the white swans bill nearly bumping against Crowley’s crow one when they take a sharp turn. 

The demon’s leading them, one hand wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist, his other holding his hand, his grip firm but soft. Aziraphale’s own hand’s on Crowley’s shoulder, barely brushing against his neck.

They gaze at each other through the eyeholes. Blue meets gold, both of their gazes reflecting the firelight around them, flickering like the heart wrenching desire and longing currently eating away at both of their hearts. 

They dance. 

Crowley dips Aziraphale at the sudden drop. The humans around them clap, none the wiser. 

Their masks brush, their eyes locked. They sway, pulling each other close before falling back. Taking and giving, retreating and coaxing. A game, almost, one their both _so tired_ of playing.

Tantalizing, _tempting_.

The world around them spins, alight in pulses of red-orange flames and deep, empty blue. Hands brush, feet twirl.

Then the music ends and they separate again. 


	36. Starstuck [star-struck]: fascinated or greatly impressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @witchingwhovian: Star, smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is porn lol enjoy! ;D

* * *

“You know,” Aziraphale pants, the feeling of the blanket underneath his now bare skin causing him too shiver. “What you said we were going _–ah–_ stargazing, darling, this isn’t exactly what-what I had in mind.”

Crowley grins from where he’s stretched out on top of the blonde, his legs parting Aziraphale’s so that he can thrust downward. Aziraphale moans, opening his thighs wider. 

“We are, silly dove.” Crowley hisses, pressing a searing kiss against Aziraphale's lips. 

“But–” Aziraphale gasps when they pull back, watching as the moon reflects in his mate’s golden gaze. “What do-do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Crowley snarls as he moves down to kiss Aziraphale’s neck, sucking at the jump of his pulse point. Aziraphale shivers. “If I don’t have you seeing stars by the end of this, I haven’t done something r-right, my love.” 


	37. Multiple [mul·ti·ple]: having or involving several parts, elements, or members.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word prompts send in by my Tumblr followers :) Each section has the word and the "mood" associated with the blurb on top <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Laundry, fluff**

**(@anon)**

“You know--” Crowley says as he lifts up another basket of baby clothes, setting it on the washer with a grunt. “--we could just miracle all of these clean, darling.”

Aziraphale waves a hand from where he’s seated on their couch, Artemis propped up against his chest. She’s sleeping, her long lashes fluttering as she curls up closer to her mother, whimpering.

Aziraphale absentmindedly pats her back as he answers. “But then we wouldn’t _really_ know if they’re clean. Plus, who was the one that carried her in his stomach for 9 months?”

Crowley groans. “I know, I know. ‘Mother’s Intuition’ and all that.”

He starts pushing the baby clothes into the machine, making sure to separate the reds and whites after the disaster that was last time. Aziraphale hums in agreement, pushing his reading glasses further up his nose as he adjusts their infant daughter in his arms. 

Even surrounded by puke-soaked baby clothes, Crowley has never been happier. 

* * *

**Cradle (fluff) ((I love you hon! Thank you so much!!! 😚💗💗💗))**

**(@just-katsumi)**

Held in her father’s arms, Artemis coos. 

Crowley smiles down at her, pressing a sweet kiss against her small nose. Aziraphale is laying next to them, his head propped up against Crowley’s chest, his legs across the couch. The demon hums, content, shifting a little and stretching his wings out.

The midnight black feathers spread, wrapping all three of them up. Crowley feels a pleasant growl shakes his frame, buzzing against his lips as he kisses Aziraphale’s cheek. 

His most precious treasures are cradled in his wings and in his arms and the ginger feels a sense of peace he hasn’t known since he created the first nebula.

It burns just as bright, however.

* * *

**Bunnies, fluff**

**(@anon)**

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks as he hops closer to his mate, ducking underneath the shade of the rose bush, his eyes wide. “What are you doing here? The Truce Gathering isn’t for a few moons--” 

“Needed to sssee you.” The snake hisses, wrapping around Aziraphale, brushing the white bunny’s cheek with his tongue. Aziraphale nuzzles closer. “How’s my wonderful mate doing, hmm? That Gabriel still giving you trouble?” 

Aziraphale shrugs, inhaling Crowley’s scent. “Same old, same old. I’ve learned to block most of it out, to be honest, dear.” 

Crowley hisses but his coils are gentle as they tighten, his beautiful golden eyes reflecting the shimmering sunlight above. “You shouldn’t have to deal with hisssss abuse, my love.”

“Let’s not focus on that right now.” Aziraphale whispers, shivering as he feels Crowley’s scales against his neck, his sides. His mate’s everywhere and the rabbit has never felt safer. “We are together, even for a few moments, and that’s enough for me.”

Crowley smiles. “Of course, dove.” 

* * *

**Aftercare, fluff ❤**

**(@anon)**

Aziraphale feels Crowley slink up from the bed, feels his dominant’s gentle hands against his wrists as he unties him, feels the demon’s lips against the marks left behind. 

“Doing okay, baby?” Crowley whispers and Aziraphale hums, not even having to open his eyes to feel his husband’s golden gaze rank across his body. He shivers. “Need some water? Something to eat?”

“No.” Aziraphale mumbles, blinking just enough to watch Crowley grab their sheets, the coolness of the fabric against his heated skin causing the angel to moan. 

“Don’t make thosssse noises if you know what’s good for you, dove.” Crowley laughs and the blonde rolls his eyes, admiring the way the lean muscles in the demon’s chest flex as he bends down. “Are you certain you don’t need anything else?”

“Just you.” Aziraphale reaches out, smiling when he feels Crowley immediately sink down next to him. He shifts until he’s cuddled against his husband’s chest, nuzzling closer. “Always just you.” 

“No one else.” Crowley promises, wrapping his arms around his angel and pressing a sweet kiss against his forehead. “Never, sweetheart.” 

* * *

**Lingerie, tired**

**(@anon)**

Aziraphale can see in Crowley’s eyes that he is both insanely turned on and tired as Hell.

Having just come from Hell, that would be understandable. His husband, although retired, sometimes is required to attend meetings for the “senior demons” and, with him being the first Snake and all, is often the man of the hour. 

This would be wonderful if not for how exhausted it clearly makes his mate. 

“Darling.” Aziraphale mutters, swallowing at the feeling of Crowley’s hands against the straps of his panties. His husband has his face tucked into the angel’s neck, pressing lazy kisses and nips into the sensitive skin. “We should get to bed.”

“No.” Crowley all but whines, pulling back enough to glance up at Aziraphale, his golden eyes clouded in fatigue. “Want to tasssste you, feel you. You dressed up so-so pretty for me, sssweetnesss, I don’t want it to go to waste--” 

“It certainly won’t, my dear. We can always pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Aziraphale reluctantly pulls back and lays down, snapping a nightgown over his lingerie and night clothes onto Crowley. The demon sighs in both defeat and slight relief and Aziraphale sits up just enough to allow his husband to take his normal spot. 

“G’night, angel.” Crowley slurs, the words muffled from where Aziraphale is cuddled against his chest. “Love you.”

Aziraphale smiles, curling up closer. “I love you too, my love.”

Crowley’s asleep before Aziraphale can even miracle the light off. 

* * *

**ocean angst**

**(@walkingtrashwithanxiety)**

When Aziraphale weeps, his tears drip down into the cracks in the Earth.

His heart feels empty, his mind numb. Beside him, Crowley sits, too terrified of speaking lest he causes the angel even more pain, too scared to touch lest their skin burns. 

They weren’t meant to be together, they _cannot_ be together, no matter how much their essenes and mortal bones ache with the need. 

They can only sit, side-by-side, as Aziraphale’s sobs turn the land around them into a sea.


	38. Evaluation [e·val·u·a·tion]: the making of a judgment about the amount, number, or value of something; assessment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COMMISSION #4
> 
> For @fanlan1, I hope you enjoy babe! :D
> 
> Prompt: Hi! Can I commission a fic where aziraphale and Crowley are both demons. Crowley is protective of aziraphale because he’s innocent and sweet despite falling and he secretly calls him angel when no other demons are around. From there the rest of the plot is up to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. Aziraphale and Crowley are both demons in this fic!

* * *

**~ Oh Please, Be Gentle My Dear Devil's Advocate ~**

* * *

“Angel--” Crowley starts, his tone pleading, trailing after his mate as they scoot around the crowded halls of Hell. “Darling, please--” 

“ _ Not here _ . I don’t want to hear it.” 

“If you’d just listen--”

Aziraphale, slitted blue eyes almost glowing in the musty darkness, turns around to shoot Crowley a glare. His wonderful lips are pursed, his beautiful face pinched in annoyance and he speeds up a little, passing underneath an open doorway to their right. 

Crowley follows him without hesitation, shutting the door on his way inside.

“I’ve been listening, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighs, stopping in the middle of the thankfully empty storage room. He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the way Crowley rolls his eyes. “I-I am a  _ demon _ now, my dear. You have to let me do at least some of the assignments on my own.” 

Crowley nods, slinking closer. “I know, dove, I know. It’s just--they can be dangerous. Hell doesn’t exactly care what happens to demons on these missions and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” 

Aziraphale huffs. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not saying that!” Gritting his teeth, Crowley crosses the last few remaining feet until he’s in front of his mate. Aziraphale meets his heated gaze, blue eyes narrowed. “You’re still-still  _ new _ , Aziraphale. You haven’t had the experience that other demons have had, especially not when it comes to doing some of the real nasty stuff.” 

Aziraphale frowns. “But what about the Arrangement? I did fine with those assignments.”

Crowley carefully reaches out, placing his hands along his husband’s waist. Aziraphale doesn’t pull away, instead melting into the touch slightly, the creases along his forehead smoothing out. Crowley sighs, leaning down to gently press his lips against his love’s temple. 

“Those assignments were  _ mine _ , baby. That’s why they weren’t as gruesome or bleak. But with you being so new and all, I’m almost positive Beezelbub’s going to try and test your new found loyalties--”

“But I’m not loyal to Hell.” Aziraphale says, his tone desperate, his own hands reaching up to clutch at the labels of Crowley’s black jacket. “I’m loyal to you. Only you.” 

Crowley shushes him. “I know, my love. As I am to you, but that won’t please our Lord of The Flies, unfortunately.”

“Pity.” Aziraphale grumbles, finally relenting and pressing his face into the crook of Crowley’s neck, tucking his head underneath his mate’s chin. “I quite enjoy being yours.”

“You’re always mine.” Crowley laughs, rubbing one hand down Aziraphale’s back to gently cup his ass, delighting in the little shiver and wiggle he gets as a response. “Do you know anything about the assignment you’re getting today?” 

Aziraphale shakes his head, his curls tickling Crowley’s nose when the ginger nuzzles his cheek against his mate’s soft hair. “Beelzebub only instructed me to meet with them in the lower conference room. Something about a briefing, I believe.”

“When is that?”

Aziraphale glances at his pocket watch, his eyes widening for a split second before he’s pulling away from Crowley’s hold. The ginger growls a little at the sudden intrusion, but releases his mate when the blonde tugs against his arms. 

“Love, what--?” Crowley starts to ask, blinking down at Aziraphale as the other demon makes his way toward the door. “Whatsss wrong?”

“I need to be in the meeting room in a few moments, my dear.” Aziraphale says, his gaze apologetic even as he scoots closer and closer to the doorway. “I love you very much, darling, but I need to hurry off now.”

Crowley nods even as he reaches out, looping his arms around his husband’s waist once more. The blonde rolls his eyes but allows Crowley to tilt his jaw up, one soft hand cupping his cheek. Crowley smiles, his yellow eyes searching Aziraphale’s face. 

“I love you too, angel. Just--Please--” He swallows, speaking the words against Aziraphale’s lips as he leans down. The blonde sighs into the kiss. “Please be careful, my dove. If you feel unsafe or if it feels like too much, please tell me and I’ll come with you--” 

“I’ve got to go now, my dear.” Aziraphale whispers, pulling back and not meeting Crowley’s gaze when the other demon ducks down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you afterwards.”

“Stay safe.” 

Aziraphale doesn’t seem to hear him and the ginger is left with the words hanging in the now empty storage room, his heart both lodged in his throat and traveling down the gloomy hallway. 

* * *

Aziraphale has just reached the door when it swings open, nearly smacking him across the nose from the force. He yelps, scooting backwards just as Beelzebub sticks their head out, glancing up at him with their eyes clouded in annoyance. 

“You’re late.” Is all the shorter demon buzzes and Aziraphale blushes, wringing his hands.

“Ah, yes, yes so-so sorry about that.” The blonde laughs, a high sound filled with anxiety even to his own ears. “All of this foot traffic, you know how it is, uh.”

“Get in.” The fly demon doesn’t crack a smile at Aziraphale’s poor attempt at humor and the former angel scoots around them, swallowing. “I’ve put your file on the table. Please don’t touch anything else, I don’t want to have to scrub your leftover O’Holy essence from my expensive desk.”

Aziraphale nods, coming to a stop beside said desk. “Of course, your highness. Ah, do you want me to sit anywhere or--”

Beelzebub waves a hand, the pack of flies atop their head swarming once before settling back down. “We shouldn’t be too long. So, Demon Aziraphale, this is your first field assignment.”

“Why, yes--” 

“And as this is your first individual assignment, I’ve made it my goal to weed out any, for a lack of a better word,  _ insecurities _ that you may have regarding your status here with us. You are not the first Once Angel and you will most certainly not be the last. Your own mate can attest to that, can he not?”

Aziraphale starts to grin, almost unconsciously, at the mention of Crowley and the blonde quickly schools his features. “Yes, Lord Beelzebub, but, what-what does this have to do with--?”

The Prince of Hell holds up a hand as they round their desk, cutting Aziraphale off. The blonde snaps his jaw shut with an audible click, shifting to take the offered case file when they hold it out across the dark wood. 

“So, you can understand the magnitude of the expected success being placed upon your shoulders, hmm? In that file, you will find your assignment. Do it exactly the way it is written, every instruction followed to a tee,  _ alone _ . You have 2 hours. If you don’t, well. . .”

Beelzebub smiles for the first time since Aziraphale entered the room. Their lips are pulled tight, not in a nice smile, however, but something deadly promising even though it bares no teeth. Aziraphale shivers, holding the folder closer to his rapidly beating heart.

“I will do it.” Aziraphale whispers past the lump in his throat. “You don’t need to fret, I can assure you.”

“I don’t plan to.” Beelzebub points behind Aziraphale, toward the doorway and the former angel barely holds back a flinch of alarm. “See yourself out, Demon Aziraphale. Dismissed.” 

Aziraphale bows without a word, turning around just in time for his mask to crack, just a bit. He grimaces, the acidic anxiety clawing up the back of his throat, staining his tongue in its bitter taste. 

_ He wants Crowley. _ He realizes, the sudden desire nearly winding him as he finally gets out of sight of the Prince of Hell’s door, taking a sharp left turn and stopping just in front of the last exit toward the Mortal world above.  _ He wants his mate, with his warm, gold eyes and his safe arms and his love.  _

He can’t, however. Aziraphale must do this alone, no matter how much the panic is threatening to tear his heart from his chest. He and Crowley are on their own side, to each other only and always forever, but in order to be safe, they have to play their part. 

Follow the rules, bend them at most. 

Taking a glance around him, Aziraphale finally holds out the folder, now crinkled slightly from his tight grip. With the dim lighting, it seems to almost glow in the darkness and the blonde has to look away for a split second, swallowing again. He smoothes out the yellow paper, ignoring the way his hands shake, and finally forces himself to open it.

_ Go to Saint James Park. _ Is all it says, the font printed in neat, block letters in the exact middle of the page.  _ Sit on the furthest bench from the entrance. Wait there.  _

Aziraphale frowns, turning the paper over in his hands. He finds nothing else, however, and the blonde reluctantly shoves the page back into its original spot. Tucking the folder under his arm once more, Aziraphale contemplates once again calling Crowley, wanting more than anything to hear his husband’s soothing voice and touch.

He only has 2 hours, however. Aziraphale doesn’t have time. 

Sucking in a lung-full of the grimy air, the former Guardian of the Eastern Gate starts off in the direction of the park, traveling quickly back up the escalators that take him to the mortal world. 

He pretends to not notice the way his entire frame trembles with each step. 

* * *

By the time he gets to Saint James, the sun is midway in the sky, the leaves around him reflecting it’s golden rays. 

Aziraphale doesn’t stop to bask in the warmth, however. He hustles back, past the treeline and the lake toward the very end of the park, the loose stones and gravel crunching under his shoes. All around him, humans linger, stopping to admire the views and to enjoy the nice spring weather. 

Finally, he makes it to the final bench, the wood creaking underneath him as he sits down. He tucks his legs in, folding his hands across his stomach, smoothing down invisible wrinkles in his cream coat.

Nothing to do now but wait.

Aziraphale doesn’t have to wait long, it seems. He feels the familiar flash of holy power, the blistering harshness that seems to dig into every single fiber of his essence. He feels the familiar panic start to creep in and the demon barely has time to flinch before Gabriel is in his face.

“Hello, Aziraphale.” The archangel grins, his perfect teeth nearly blinding in the afternoon sun. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Gabriel, w-what--?” Aziraphale starts, his voice breathless in shock and rising fear. “What are you doing here?”

The tall angel doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort, however, and takes a step closer, looming above Aziraphale until the blonde has no choice but to shift as far back into the seat as possible. Gabriel laughs a little, his jade eyes twinkling. 

“Hell sent me here, actually. Spoke to your Lord of the Flies over the intercom a few days ago, they told me that their newest demon was being initiated and when I found out it was you, I offered them my assistance.”

Aziraphale frowns. “I don’t understand.”

Gabriel sighs. “You never do. I’m your assignment into Hell, cupcake. Beelzebub told me to come here, do some ‘nice miracles’ or some nonsense for the humans, and you’re supposed to stop me, apparently.” 

Aziraphale swallows, clenching his fists. “Well, uh, what-what have you done so far?”

“Nothing.” Gabriel smirks. “It’s going to be sort of hard for you to stop me from doing anything good if I don’t do anything at all, huh?” 

Aziraphale’s blood goes cold and he shivers, watching with wide eyes as Gabriel takes a seat beside him, the Archangel’s expression clouded in wicked glee, his lips curling into a mocking grin. He stretches, raising his arms above his head.

“You were an outcast in Heaven, Aziraphale.” Gabriel whispers, settling further onto the bench. “Too bad you’re going to be one in Hell too.”

“No,” Aziraphale shakes his head, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. “No, no, you’re-you’re wrong. I’m going to be good--”

Gabriel tisks. “Not something a demon wants to be, though. You can’t even play the part right, sunshine, but well, maybe I can help you at least _ look _ it. . .”

Aziraphale starts to open his mouth, to ask Gabriel just what in the 7 circles of Hell he’s blabbering on about, when the Archangel’s fist suddenly slams into his jaw.

Aziraphale cries out as his head snaps back, silver blood already pouring from his nose. He curls up on the bench, holding his hands above his head as Gabriel crackles above him, the angel shaking his hand out. Aziraphale trembles, a mixture of anger and fear causing his head to spin and he can’t keep from flinching when Gabriel reaches over to harshly grab at his shirt collar, pulling the blonde until they are nose-to-nose. 

“Mother above, I’ve always wanted to do that.” Gabriel’s eyes are twinkling, his lips curled. “You were a pathetic excuse for an angel and now you’re an  _ even worse _ demon. You really don’t belong anywhere, huh?”

Aziraphale whimpers, choking. “N-No--”

Gabriel smirks. “Lets see how much your new boss likes it when you go back down without anything to show for your work but a busted nose, you  _ stupid _ motherfucker--”

“Hey!” A suddenly familiar, rage-filled voice cuts the Archangel off and Gabriel barely has time to blink before Crowley’s there, shoving himself in between Aziraphale and the angel, his fangs bared and a snarl rumbling his chest. “Get the  _ fuck _ away from my mate, you bassssstard.”

Gabriel lets go of Aziraphale, holding his hands up, palms out. Aziraphale sinks back into the seat, watching with wide eyes as Gabriel gives a weary laugh, his delighted grin faltering when Crowley growls again. 

“Demon, I was not aware that you would be attending this orientation as well. I’m just here to-to offer my assistance, allow dear demon Aziraphale here the chance to prove himself to the lower establishment--”

Crowley barks out a harsh laugh, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Gabriel’s own shirt, using his demonic strength to pull the angel to his feet. Gabriel squirms, jade eyes darting from Crowley’s own narrowed yellow ones to Aziraphale and the blonde jerks, pushing himself so that he’s pressed against his husband’s legs. 

Crowley glances down at him, his golden eyes so soft and warm that Aziraphale nearly sobs. Instead, however, he presses closer, burying his face into the soft material of his mate’s black jacket. 

“Shut the fuck up! Shut up.” Crowley hisses once he turns away, venom practically dripping past his bared lips, his forked tongue tasting the tant scent of Aziraphale’s fear in the air and the beast inside  _ howls _ . “You have no idea how much I want to kill you right now, rip your skin from your bones, tear you apart. However, that would only cause more problems than you’re worth.”

Gabriel swallows. “Demon, I would--”

Crowley shakes the angel, his claws tearing into Gabriel’s expensive suit. His eyes are locked onto Gabriel’s, unblinking, the sort of focus only a deadly hunter can possess.

“No, I’m going to tell you what you  _ will _ do. You are going to go back up to heaven, call Beelzebub and tell them Aziraphale’s assignment went off without a hitch. Then you’re going to stay the fuck away from me and my husband otherwise I will have the absolute pleassssure of tearing you limb from limb. Got it?”

Gabriel scoffs, the sound slightly gurgled from Crowley’s tight grip on his shirt. “Why would I ever listen to you?”

Crowley just grins, fangs gleaming. He tilts his head side-to-side, his pupils contracting until his eyes are almost completely gold, the deep shadows around them sliding toward the ginger until they are pooled at his feet like tar. 

He never looks away from Gabriel, staring until the Archangel sags in his hold, his own violet eyes glazed over.

“Becausssse,” Crowley hisses. “You won’t have much of a choice, asshole. You will do what I have told you.”

Gabriel nods, voice monotone. “Yes.”

Crowley releases him after a second, almost immediately leaning down to gently scoop a still trembling Aziraphale into his arms. Aziraphale curls up, burying his face into Crowley’s chest for a second before he pulls away, both of them watching as Gabriel disappears from sight without a word. 

“Oh, my darling dove.” Crowley coos after a few seconds, reaching down to gently tilt Aziraphale’s chin up, tutting at the dried silver blood still staining the blonde’s normally rosy cheeks. “Let me heal that for you, hmm?”

Aziraphale just nods, sniffling. Crowley quickly fixes the injury, clearing the blood and the thumping ache away with a quick brush of his lips. They rise after that, the brush of air against his skin the only sensation before they are inside of the bookshop, the familiar scents of home filling his nose. 

Only then does Aziraphale allow himself to sob.

He cries, falling to his knees, the carpet soft under his knees. He curls up, feeling Crowley settle down behind him, gently tugging him until he’s pressed against his husband’s chest, tucked underneath his chin. Vaguely, Aziraphale is aware of Crowley’s wings around them, the feathers a midnight black, but he’s too upset to comment.

Crowley’s lips press against his forehead, his nose, anywhere the other demon can reach, his chest rumbling underneath Aziraphale’s cheek, a soothing growl. 

“I’m here, darling.” Crowley whispers over and over, rocking them back and forth. “I’m here now, you’re safe, you’re okay. I love you so much, baby, so much. Shh, love, shh.” 

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale says, voice harsh, speaking into the softness of his mate’s shirt. “I-I should have listened to you, I never should have-have gone, not without telling you. I’m so-so sorry, my dear, please--”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Crowley soothes, adjusting them so that Aziraphale’s cradled in his lap, speaking into his golden curls. “It’s alright, I’m just sorry I wasn’t there sooner. If I’d known that wanker would have been there, I would never have let you gone--” 

Aziraphale sniffs, glancing up at Crowley. “But then I would have failed. I would have-have never been accepted into Hell, I wouldn’t belong anywhere.”

Crowley tightens his grip, one warm hand reaching down to gently tilt Aziraphale’s face up, his gaze as warm as the first rays of a summer sunrise. Aziraphale nuzzles closer, swallowing, feeling his lingering panic and fear finally begin to subside. 

“Don’t you see, my love. You belong right here, Aziraphale, in my arms, nowhere else, forever and always. Never, ever doubt that for a second, angel.  _ Never _ .” 

Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate before he nods. “There’s nowhere I would rather be, my dear. Never.”


	39. Superabundant [su·per·a·bun·dant]: excessive in quantity; more than sufficient; overabundant.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COMMISSION #6.
> 
> For the wonder @i-am-truly-chaotic on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy hon and thank you so so so much for the support and love! :D
> 
> Her prompt: One day Aziraphale, Crowley and Artemis (who is 4-years-old) are out and about running errands. The streets are packed with people and there’s a lot going on, people walking past and crowding Artemis, the traffic oises, people talking and/or yelling, there’s just so much going on that Artemis gets very overwhelmed. She freezes, she starts hyperventilating and crying, but Aziraphale and Crowley are quicker than lighting and sense that Artemis is feeling off before things begin to escalate. Aziraphale is so protective of his baby, the maternal instincts and rage is fuming throughout the story and Crowley’s fangs are out and he doesn’t care who sees, he’s protecting both of his doves no matter what. Crowley teleports them all back to the cottage and they cuddle and snuggle and help Artemis to calm down and they can finally relax because their baby is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory: Artemis Crowfell is a fanmade Ineffable Child created by me on my Tumblr blog. She's around the human age/mentality of 4-5-years-old in this story and the hybrid (half demon, half angel) age of 54-55-years-old. She has strawberry blonde, curly hair and snake slitted, blue eyes.
> 
> Aziraphale carried her in his belly for 9-months and is therefore called "Mum". Crowley is her Dad.

* * *

The mid-day sun's hot against Artemis's back and she clutches tighter to her mother's hand, following him as Aziraphale leads her through the crowded London streets.

It's a nice day, one of the warmest for this time of year and the little girl knows just how much her parents enjoy going shopping, especially when the chance of rain is so low. Above them, clouds dot the sky, puffy white ones that remind her of her mother's hair and the little girl nearly giggles as she imagines Aziraphale floating alongside them, soaring through the baby blue. 

Crowley's in front of them, the dark material of his signature black jacket swishing in time with his long strides, his red hair getting ruffled in the slight breeze. In his hands, the demon holds bags and an empty bread basket, nearly smacking a nearby human with his swinging arms. 

"You doing alright, my darlings?" Her father asks, glancing back at them, brows knit in slight concern. "Not too hot?"

Aziraphale shakes his head, pulling Artemis a little closer to him as they come to a stop at a traffic light. His grip is warm, firm and familiar and Artemis blinks up at him. "No, no, I think we're okay, my dear. I would, however, like to get this bread picked up before we get back to the cottage."

Crowley nods, reaching over to press a small kiss against his husband's forehead, gently smoothing down a stray lock of Artemis's hair with a brush of his hand. The toddler giggles, swatting at her dad's fingers when the demon wiggles them against her cheek. 

"Daddy, that tickles!" She says, leaning more fully against Aziraphale's legs when the angel laughs. "Mummy, Daddy's being s-silly again."

"Oh, little one. . . your father's  _ always _ silly."

Crowley gasps, raising a hand to his chest. "I am wounded, angel, truly." 

"Good." Aziraphale smirks, before lifting his pocket watch with his free hand, the gold reflecting the glare of the sun above them. "Can't this bloody light change already? All of the good bread is going to go stale by the time we make it across this street."

Before his husband has finished speaking, however, Crowley's snapping his fingers. The light in-front of them, once a harsh red, quickly shifts to green and Aziraphale flashes his mate a grateful smile, pecking Crowley on his cheek as the ginger pulls them along. 

“Thank you, my dear.”

“It’s no problem, dove.”

Artemis, almost tripping over her own small feet as they finally make it to the other side, flinches a little when a human shoves past them, his cell phone held to one ear and his dark eyes blazing. Crowley, his own yellow eyes lit up in fire above his shades, snarls at the man, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale and pulling Artemis so that she's in-between them. 

"Oi, watch where you're going, dumbass." Crowley hisses, but the human pays him no mind and the demon sighs in frustration, tightening his grip on both his doves. "Dear Satan, I hate people sssometimes."

“Me too, darling, but please calm your temper. It’s not good if you, well, snarl at every rude human that comes near us.”

Crowley tutts, grinning cheekily at his huffing mate. “You’d do the same, baby, if you didn’t have your O’Holy angel image to keep up with.”

Aziraphale hums his agreement above her and Artemis shivers, looking up at her mother just in time to see the angel flash his own glare at the human behind them. “You’re quite right about that, Crowley, quite right indeed.” 

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, Artemis suddenly lifts her arms in the universal gesture of 'hold me,' watching as Aziraphale blinks down at her in confusion and worry.

"Baby, what's wrong?" The blonde asks, quickly picking his daughter up and cuddling her close to his chest. "Did that man back there frighten you?"

Artemis hears her Dad snarl again at Aziraphale's words, hears as her Mama quickly shushes him, and can feel the way both of her parents have now moved them to the side, underneath a nearby overhang. The relief from the sun would be nice if not for the way everything else suddenly feels like too much.

_ Too much. _

Her heartbeat is loud, a steady thumping against her small ribcage and the four-year-old sobs suddenly, her ears ringing. All around her, the world rushes by, blurs of sounds and colors and people all passing, their footsteps pounding. They talk, they yell and push each other, and it's just all too much, too much,  _ too much _ .

"Shh, shh, my darling girl." Aziraphale shushes her between her panicked sobs and hiccups, gently bouncing them. "It's alright, shh, please, my love."

"L-Loud." She cries, curling up tighter in her mother's arms, shivering. "Too loud, Mama, it hurts. Hurts, p-please--." 

Aziraphale coos, feeling his angelic presence make itself known, the air around them warming despite the already blistering sun. He feels a rage expand, cold and consuming, deep in his chest, something he hasn't felt since he pushed an escaped hellhound away from their cottage door a few years ago. 

People were hurting his daughter, making her cry, putting her in danger. Aziraphale can barely suppress his own enraged snarl at the very thought, swallowing it down with a silent grunt of effort. 

His husband, however, seems to have  _ no _ issues with making his anger known.

Crowley, when Aziraphale manages to look away from Artemis's terrified and tear-streaked face, is crouched in-front of them. His midnight dark wings are out, not caring about the humans as they suddenly flee in fear, his claws and fangs on full display, golden eyes nearly glowing.

He's vibrating, his growl of protective fury rumbling the very air around them like a stationary clap of thunder, the sound of it buzzing through Aziraphale's very core. 

"You will leave us." Crowley's hissing, slinking back and forth like a caged predator, body positioned to strike at the nearby people who foolishly stop to gasp at them. The air around the three supernatural beings is both hot and cold, blistering and freezing. "You will leave usss and say nothing about this to anyone. If I have found that you have, you will live the rest of your small, pathetic mortal lives in a torment only the most wicked in Hell suffer." 

The humans leave before Aziraphale can even blink.

Artemis is still crying, however, her blue eyes pinched shut and her face shoved as far into Aziraphale's neck as possible. Her small hands are wrapped around the angel's shirt collar, little chest heaving in sobs. Aziraphale coos, brushing her hair back with a soft swipe of his fingers.

"Let's go home, my dear." He says to Crowley, feeling his husband immediately wrap them up in his dark wings, snapping them back to the cottage without another word. 

Almost as soon as their feet touch the carpet, Aziraphale is moving, seating himself on their sofa and pulling Artemis back against his chest. Crowley is immediately beside them, his fangs still glistening, his eyes blazing but both of his angel's aren't scared. 

"Daddy." Artemis sobs, lifting her head up from her Mama's chest just long enough to whimper, flashing Crowley a tear-stained look that has the demon snarling low in his throat. “I-I--”

“Hush.” Crowley coos, circling around both of them, coming around the side of the couch until he can squeeze himself in between Aziraphale and the cushion behind the angel. Aziraphale sits up, shifting so that he, himself, can rest back against his husband’s chest, gathering Artemis closer to them both. “Hush, my dear little one, it’sss alright.” 

Aziraphale reaches down, gently brushing a lock of strawberry blonde hair from his daughter’s forehead. “Can you tell us what happened, love?” 

Artemis shrugs, biting her lip. “Uh, I-I got scared.”

Crowley frowns, curling his long arms around Aziraphale so that he can cup her cheek, his long fingers carefully grazing the baby soft skin. “Of what, Art?” 

The toddler shrugs again, her own little fingers picking at Aziraphale’s waistcoat buttons, plucking at the metal and watching as they shimmer in the incoming sunlight. Her mother’s gentle grip against her wrist stops her, however and she’s forced to meet both of her parent’s worried gazes. 

Aziraphale’s voice rumbles against her cheek. “What were you scared of, baby?” 

“The-The people.” She whispers. “It was too loud, Mama. Too much.” 

“Ah.” Aziraphale nods, face suddenly lighting up in understanding and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. “Sensory overload, then.”

Crowley jerks behind them, golden eyes wide. “That’s what it was?”

“Hmm, either that or a panic attack. I didn’t think her anxiety would surface so soon--” Aziraphale cuddles her closer, his own white wings coming into existence and wrapping around them, Crowley’s pressing tighter in response. “But, no matter, it’s not something that we-we both haven’t dealt with before, my dear.” 

Crowley nods. “Absolutely. 

“And--” Artemis’s voice is soft, her body so very small against Aziraphale that the angel feels his breath catch in his throat. “--And you’ll help me, right?”

“Little one,” Crowley coos, glancing down at her over her mother’s shoulder, his golden eyes as soft and warm as roasted honey. “We will always,  _ always _ help you. No matter what.” 

All traces of his anger, his protective fury from earlier are gone, only a small whiff of his smokey rage remaining, like the last simmering coals of a magnificent inferno. Aziraphale’s skin is warm, his own eyes as blue and deep as an ocean, surrounding Artemis in the calming depths when he nods his agreement. 

“Always,” Aziraphale promises, pressing another kiss to his daughter’s temple, feeling his husband shift behind them, Crowley’s scent familiar and simmering. His fingertips lightly graze Artemis’s tear-streaked cheeks. “Close your eyes, my darling, and dream of whatever it is you like best.” 

Artemis, after glancing back up at both her parents through her lashes, her slitted blue eyes tired, falls limp against Aziraphale’s chest once more. Her breaths, more sniffles than anything, even out after a few seconds and she curls up tighter. Aziraphale hums a lullaby, one that hasn’t been spoken out loud in centuries, his voice soft, his gaze even softer. 

“Everything will be okay.” He whispers to Crowley once he knows for certain that Artemis is asleep, looking over his shoulder at his husband. “Right, my dear?”

Crowley kisses him then, short and sweet, and it’s everything the angel knows that his husband wants to find the words for, but can’t. Aziraphale kisses back, just as gently, filled with love and adoration and all the words the angel would scream from Heaven if given the chance.

  
In his arms, their daughter sleeps and everything  _ is _ alright. 


	40. Intruder [in·trud·er]: a person who intrudes, especially into a building with criminal intent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: Pls do something angsty with Gabriel being a meanie poo poo pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your wish is my command lol I hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

Aziraphale barely has time to blink before Gabriel’s there, the other angel’s jade eyes narrowed in hatred.

“Gabriel, w-what--?” Aziraphale starts to ask, blood going cold in terror and he takes a few stumbling steps back, nearly tripping over his nearby stack of novels. “What are you doing here?”

The taller angel shrugs, lips curling. “Just took a stroll, figured I’d pop in here and say hello.”

Aziraphale frowns, glancing behind him to the backroom of the bookshop, where his husband is currently taking a nap on the couch. “Oh, well, uh, you can just be on your way now, then.”

“What do you mean, sunshine?” Gabriel reaches out, setting his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder with enough force that the blonde’s teeth chatter. “Kicking me out already?”

Aziraphale carefully steps out of Gabriel’s harsh hold, flinching when his boss’s fingers dig into his skin through his jacket. Trembling a bit, Aziraphale gasps when Gabriel takes a step closer, pushing the blonde until his back hits his desk with a harsh thud.

“Uh, uh--” Aziraphale tries to scoot around but Gabriel laughs, shoving Aziraphale further backwards. “You will leave, Gabriel. You were not invited here and-and--”

But Gabriel shakes his head, eyes alight in bitter mirth, raising his hand again, fist closed and arm pulled back. Aziraphale braces himself for the punch. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t think so, Dear Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“Hey!” Eyes snapping open, Aziraphale lets out a sigh of pure relief when Crowley suddenly shoves himself in-between them, his yellow eyes blazing in rage and his fangs bared. “Get the _fuck_ away from my mate, you asshole!”

Gabriel flashes Crowley a cheerful grin, not even blinking when the demon hisses in his face. “Good afternoon, demon. I was um, unaware you were here.”

Crowley doesn’t respond with words, just shoves Gabriel so hard that the Archangel goes flying backwards, knocking his head against a bookshelf. Crowley snarls, slinking in front of Aziraphale, pressing back against his angel until he’s sure that no part of Aziraphale is uncovered. 

“Leave.” 

Gabriel pulls himself up, golden blood already starting to pool from the deep gash in the back of his head, running down his neck in small rivers. Taking one last glance at Aziraphale, the Archangel disappears from existence without another word.

Crowley turns toward Aziraphale after a few seconds of tense silence, his eyes softening as he takes in his husband’s pale and shaken face. The ginger coos, reaching up to gently cup Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Are you alright, my dove?” Crowley asks, wrapping his other arm around his mate’s waist and pulling the blonde so that he’s flush against him. “He didn’t do anything, right?” 

Aziraphale shakes his head, nuzzling underneath Crowley’s chin, feeling his demon press a sweet kiss against his forehead. “No, no, he didn’t do anything, my dear.”

“But you’re alright, angel?”

Aziraphale glances up, meeting Crowley’s golden, adoration filled gaze with one of his own. “With you around, darling, I’m always alright.” 


	41. Prince (pr-ince): a male royal ruler of a small state, actually, nominally, or originally subject to a king or emperor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts by @anons: Could you write something small w Crowley being rlly brash and demon-y w everyone ever but w aziraphale he’s just Soft and Whipped and will do anything to make him happy & Protective Crowley?? (please)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

Aziraphale knew to not bother Crowley when his mate’s in a meeting.

The angel knows this. He knows that his husband, now one of the few higher ranking Princes of Hell after getting promoted by Lucifer for “seducing an Angel of the Lord,” has to make sure that he keeps all of his assigned ranks in order, to not be distracted by Aziraphale as the blonde paces around the door to the closest Briefing Room.

Anxiety is clawing at Aziraphale’s insides, his hands shaking as he twists his fingers, swallowing against the whine that wants to rise up.

He truly doesn’t know why he’s so anxious. 

It’s been a good day so far, all things considered. Nothing too bad has happened, he got to try the newest cake at the bakery right across the street and he even made it back down to Hell in time to catch Hastur on his way to his newest assignment.

“Consort Aziraphale--” The blonde had squawked, arms flapping at his sides like some terrified bird and Aziraphale smiles politely. “How, uh, how are you?”

“Fine, fine, and it’s just Aziraphale, dear.” The angel glances behind Hastur, frowning when he doesn't see the frog demon’s normal companion. “Where’s your husband? I thought you two were going to go--oh, what was it--take a midnight stroll through a deserted graveyard?”

Hastur sighs, falling into step beside the angel as they round a corner. “There’s been an emergency meeting, it seems. Something about not getting enough wicked deeds done this last week. Crowley called everyone down to Briefing Room 666. Well, those who didn’t already have an assignment, at least.”

Aziraphale’s stomach had churned, mouth tasting bitter when he swallowed. “Oh, yes, well. I’d better be going, my dear fellow. It was, um, q-quite lovely to talk to you, just dandy.”

Hastur nodded, dark eyes shining in confusion in the silver lights but he had let Aziraphale fall ahead of him without a word.

Blinking, the angel shakes his head, the dark wooden door quickly coming back into focus as he raises his hand to knock. With a huff, however, he lowers it, resuming his anxious pacing.

He doesn’t know why he feels the way he does, but he knows that he _needs_ to see Crowley, have his husband hold him and sooth the fear away with his soft words and softer touches.

It’s almost physically painful and the blonde is turning around and ripping the Meeting Room door open before he’s even aware that he’s moved.

“--and I want all of those bloody rats released into every single sewer around London before sunrise or I swear to Satan, I will kick all of you in the fucking cocks sssso hard you’ll be able to saranade Archangel fucking Gabriel for an entire week--”

Crowley’s standing at the head of the table, when Aziraphale manages to blink away sudden tears to see his husband clearly, decked out is his formal Prince attire, a silver and black crown sitting slightly lopsided on his head. His red locks are scattered, framing the metal like the wispy flames of hellfire, golden eyes blazing as he glances from each demon around his table to the next, one hand held up in irritation, his body braced against the oak with the other.

His aura is filled with authority, with power and grace and control and it’s one of the sexiest things Aziraphale has ever seen in his 6,000 years.

The demons surrounding the Prince all nod as one. Crowley, mouth opening to give what Aziraphale assumes is another snarled order, finally seems to notice the angel standing in the doorway and his beautiful eyes widen.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asks, voice immediately shifting into something Aziraphale could only describe as a coo. “What’re you doing in here, dove?”

“Uh, uh,” Aziraphale ducks his head, trembling a little as all of the demons at the table turn to look at him, their faces a mixture of awed and terrified. Of him or for him, the angel really isn’t sure. “I can go, my dear, if-if--”

Crowley’s suddenly in front of him, his warm hands gently cupping Aziraphale’s face, lifting the angel’s chin until Aziraphale can make eye contact with him. The barely held-back distress the blonde knows is showing on his face causes his husband to snarl, fangs flashing even as he carefully gathers Aziraphale closer, arms snaking around his waist.

Aziraphale suddenly sobs, burying his face against his mate’s neck, cuddling closer as Crowley gently shushes him, lips pressing against his forehead and temples. A muffled cough a few feet away, however, has both the angel and demon glancing up, Crowley’s chest rumbling in a low, predatory growl.

The other demon are staring at them both, eyes wide in astonishment that the feared Prince Crowley could be so, well, sweet, and Aziraphale would feel prideful that he’s the one who’s managed to ruin his husband’s carefully constructed badass reputation if not for the way his veins race with anxiety.

“So, uh, my Lord Crowley, do you want--” One of the demons begins, their scale-covered face pale in the white washed light above. “I mean, your Majesty--”

“Get out!” Crowley barks, tugging Aziraphale further into his arms. His eyes, the angel imagines, are practically shining, glazed over in an almost feral protectiveness and Aziraphale would be lying if it didn’t cause his slacks to get just a little bit tighter. “Go do your fucking jobs, you worthless, messily scums.”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir” and “Yes, my Lord” is heard before all the demons shuffle out as one stinking mass and Aziraphale sags further against his mate, allowing Crowley to lead them over to his chair at the table, sinking into his husband’s lap once he sits down.

Twiddling the shimmering buttons of Crowley’s new, fancy Prince attire, Aziraphale sniffs, nuzzling into the gentle touch pressed against his red-tinged cheek. All remaining anger is gone from Crowley’s voice, the ginger’s words as soft and smooth as honey.

“What’s got my darling so upset, hm?”

Aziraphale shrugs, curling his legs up so that he’s cradled in Crowley’s hold, surrounded by the warmth and safety of his husband’s long arms. Crowley just growls low in his chest, the sound more of a soothing rumble than the possessive thunder that had shaken his slim frame earlier.

“No one--” Crowley hisses the words, body tensing and Aziraphale can feel the way his demon’s breath hitches in a sudden, rising rage. “No one hurt you, right, baby?”

Aziraphale knows that if he were to say “yes,” if he were to give any single indication that anyone has laid even a finger on him or made him uncomfortable or even coughed in his direction, Crowley would destroy them. He would sink his fangs into their necks and tear them limb from limb with no hesitation.

“No.” Aziraphale whispers, feeling Crowley sigh in relief. “I just--I honestly don’t know, dear, I got incredibly nervous and-and needed to see you. I am very sorry that I interrupted your meeting, however.”

Crowley snorts. “I’d much rather cuddle you than deal with those dumbasssses than any longer than necessary, beloved, besides, I was getting sort of sick of hissing at them. It was like talking to brick walls, I ssswear.”

“I did--” Aziraphale swallows, shifting in his husband’s lap, subtle grinding down, just a little bit. He feels Crowley stiffen in response, breath hot against the angel’s cheek as he noses along his temple. “I did quite like your whole, um, Prince get-up. It was very _devilish_ of you, darling.”

Crowley leans back, pupils merely slits against the gold and Aziraphale can’t stop the whimper that travels up his throat, the sound quickly turning into a moan when Crowley tightens his grip on his waist. 

The featherlight pricks of his husband’s claws against his sensitive skin, even through his pants, is enough to have the angel blinking away stars, another moan shaking his chest as he throws his head back, wispy curls wild.

“Oh my lovely, beautiful Consort,” Crowley hisses, slinking forward to nip along Aziraphale's now exposed neck, sucking at the creamy skin. Aziraphale keens, grinding down with more force and feeling his husband groan into his next words, hips thrust upwards just a little. “You are the true ruler of my heart, after all.”

Aziraphale just catches his husband’s lips in a heated kiss and neither of them speak for a long while afterwards.


	42. Corrected [cor·rected] past-tense: put right (an error or fault).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @anon: oooh kinda h/c prince!crowley prompt does you: az is sitting in his lap during a meeting (as you do) when someone suggests a really stupid strategical move. aziraphale points out that said move is stupid (very politely bc az) and the demon who suggested it laughs at him and insults him, basically implying he’s just crowley’s dumb blond pet. cue Crowley’s reaction 😈😈 (don’t feel obligated to do this one, it’s just a thought i had lol! ily leah!!!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

“That won’t work.”

Forcing himself not to shrink under the sudden eyes of the demons that dart over to him in the semi-dark meeting room, Aziraphale lifts his chin, sitting up from where he was cuddled against Crowley’s chest. His fiancé is slouched in his throne, silver crown resting on the oak table in front of them, golden eyes sharp as he adjusts his gentle grip on his mate’s waist.

“ _Excuse me_ ,” The demon in question barks a few seats to their right, his skin an oozing green. His --Amon, Aziraphale believes, is his name-- mouth is open in a gasp, yellow fangs on display and Aziraphale tries his very hardest not to gag. “I’ve been working on that plan for weeks.”

The rest of the demons around them are dead silent, the air thick with the sudden, rising tension.

Aziraphale shakes his head, shifting forward, feeling more than hearing the pleased rumble Crowley lets out as the blonde’s ass scrapes against his hips. Tilting his neck, Aziraphale swallows as Crowley’s teeth gently graze his skin, feeling his demon’s arms curl tighter around him.

“They’ll see this-this _blasted plan_ before we’ve even made it up the escalators. Believe me, good fellow, but the other angels are not quite as daft as you lot like to think--”

“No, no--” Amon cuts the angelic Consort off, lips curled in a sneer as he leans forward over the table, claws braced against the wood. “I think we all know just how _fucking stupid_ those angels are. I mean, we have the Prince’s slut right here as an example-- _gak_ \--”

Crowley’s up before anyone even has a chance to move. 

He’s across the table, eyes blazing a yellow fire, his own fangs bared and on full display. The air around him is ice, the shadows along the walls seeming to almost bend inward in response to his fury. His hands, now more clawed than not, are wrapped around Amon’s throat, lifting the demon up in a tantalizing display of strength. 

Aziraphale swallows down a whine at the sight, his center pulsing in a sudden burst of arousal so strong the angel wiggles in the now empty head chair.

Crowley hisses, bringing the squirming demon down so that they are at eye-level, tightening his grip on the man’s neck. Amon chokes, attempting to claw at Crowley’s hands but the ginger pays him no mind.

“I am going to ssssay this once: If you ever, _ever_ sssso much as turn your disgusting, useless fucking face in my mate’s direction again, if you ever insist that I don’t love him or that he’s just ‘my slut,’ I will rip you apart with my teeth until there isn’t anything left of you but rotting bones. _Do I make myssself clear?_ ”

“Y-Yes, _gah_ , yes my Lord--”

“Get out of my sight.”

Waiting until Amon nods, Crowley releases him with a growl, throwing the other demon down so hard that he tilts in his chair, spilling to the floor in a tangle of molding limps.

Crowley, pausing only once to hiss down at the now trembling Amon, wastes no time in slinking back over to Aziraphale, slipping under his mate’s legs until he can cradle the blonde in his lap again. Aziraphale blinks up at him, licking his lips. blue eyes clouded in desire and submission and Crowley feels himself stiffen at the wonderful sight.

“Meeting dismissed.” He manages to grunt before leaning down and capturing Aziraphale’s mouth in a hungry kiss.

The angel moans, shifting in the seat so that he can wrap his own arms around Crowley’s neck, not even waiting for the rest of the assemble to exit the meeting room before he’s grinding down into his mate’s clothed, hard cock.

And if that makes the other demons leave the room much faster, then Aziraphale can’t be blamed.


	43. Stressed [stress-ed]: experiencing mental or emotional strain or tension.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @melayneseahawk: Pre-Apocalypse, Azi is stressed about work (maybe Heaven is asking him to do something he doesn’t feel comfortable with?) and Crowley comforts him. With his dick, if you like. He/him pronouns for both, any efforts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! :D

* * *

“Aziraphale, love--” 

Stopping at the gentle feel of Crowley’s hand against his arm, Aziraphale glances up at the demon, face flushing at the intensity of his husband’s golden stare. Ducking his head, the angel attempts to continue his anxious pacing but Crowley’s grip is firm and Aziraphale finds himself falling back against his mate’s chest with a small huff. 

They're in the bookshop. 

The blinds, once allowing the slippery golden rays of the setting sun into the room, are now closed. It’s dark out, the night allowing the anxiety that has eaten away at Aziraphale all throughout the afternoon to finally come full surface and the angel itches to put it back in place.

“My dear, please,” Aziraphale sighs, giving up on squirming away when Crowley growls low in warning, his hands warm as they settle along Aziraphale’s waist. “Crowley--”

“What’s wrong?” His husband’s voice is soft, palm even softer as it carefully cups Aziraphale’s cheek and Aziraphale is forced to meet his blazing eyes once again. “You got a letter from Heaven last night and you’ve been jittery ever since. Are you okay? Did they--Did they _ssssay_ anything to you?” 

Aziraphale shakes his head, leaning into the sweet kisses pressed against his forehead and temple. “No, no, darling, it wasn’t, uh, wasn’t anything like _that_.”

“Good, I don’t have to go beat their asses thisss time.” Smirking down at his angel, Crowley cuddles Aziraphale closer when the blonde laughs, before his face falls serious again. “What’s got my beloved so worked up then, hm?” 

“They want me to-to do a sort of presentation, I believe.” Aziraphale gestures vaguely with his hands, fingers entangling as he anxiously fidgets. “About a-a way to advert some of the worse performing miracles into more productive means of, uh, blessing.”

Crowley snorts. “Sounds like a load of unicorn shit to me.”

“What?” Aziraphale sputters, eyes wide. “But-But--” 

“‘Worse performing miracles?’ Like what? Some old lady’s laundry didn’t get folded into perfect squaresss. If anything, those blasted fools should be focusing on their pure celestial harmonies, don’t we know how much they just love that.”

“Yes well,” Aziraphale starts, but after a few seconds, only heaves another anxious sigh. “It doesn’t matter how unneeded you believe these adjustments are, my dear, I am still tasked with-with presenting my opinions and ideas on the matter, regardless.” 

“And that’s what’s making you nervous?” Gathering his mate closer when Aziraphale only nods, Crowley carefully leads them over to the couch, sitting down against the plush cushions and drawing his husband into his lap. “Oh, my dove, you’ll do just fine. I’m positive you have more bright ideas in that beautiful brain of yours then all of those idiots combined.”

Aziraphale blushes, pressing a small kiss against his husband’s shirt covered shoulder. “Thank you, love, but it’s not the, uh, the _ideas_ that I’m nervous about. More so, the presentation itself.” 

Now it’s Crowley’s turn to frown, glancing down at Aziraphale with a confused, golden gaze, shifting the angel against his long legs. “I’m sorry, baby, but I’m confused.”

“I don’t want to talk in front of large crowds.” Aziraphale swallows. “It’s just--I hate it. And they--they don’t ever seem to _hear_ what I say anyway, at least not really, so it really shouldn’t be as worrisome as it is but--”

Crowley holds up a hand, effectively cutting off his mate and the angel closes his jaw with a snap, swallowing again. “You’re afraid of talking? I’m not making fun of you, sweetheart, I just wanna make sure I understand.” 

“Yes, that’s what-what I’m worried about. And I know it sounds daft, I talk all the time--”

“It’s not stupid, darling, doing presentations is difficult at timesss, even for me.” Crowley shakes his head, an idea suddenly blooming and his stomach tightens with heat. “Would you, maybe, like to try sssomething?”

“Like what?” Aziraphale shifts against his lap and Crowley lets out a small hiss, gripping his mate’s lovely hips in his fingers. “ _Oh._ ” 

“Is that a no ‘oh’ or a yess ‘oh’?” Crowley snarks, but the words quickly trail off into another, low hiss when his husband quickly drops from his lap, onto his knees in-front of the couch, right in-between Crowley’s knees. “ _Fuck--_ ”

“Most definitely a yes ‘oh’.” Aziraphale licks his lips, his wonderful and warm tongue darting out to brush against his plump bottom lip and Crowley’s pants are suddenly tight enough to hurt. “Do you want me to or--?

Aziraphale gestures toward Crowley’s jeans and the demon, with a growl, snaps them away without warning, his painfully hard cock standing at attention against his stomach. The tip is an angry red, glistening precum already smearing across his abdomen and Aziraphale gasps, leaning forward. 

Crowley himself leans backwards, easing his lower-half further off the couch and closer to his husband’s now open mouth, hands reaching out to gently but firmly grip Aziraphale’s curls in between his fingers. 

Aziraphale makes no move to protest, however, his gorgeous thighs jiggling slightly as he scoots even closer, warm breath ghosting over Crowley’s dick. The member twitches, and Aziraphale licks his lips again.

“Ssssince you seem so nervous to talk, my darling dove.” Crowley whispers, pausing his tugging on Aziraphale’s hair to pump himself, aligning his mate’s mouth to his tip. “I figured you could use a break. Fill your wonderful mouth with ssssomething else for a while, hmm?”

Aziraphale nods, whimpering. “Oh, yes please.” 

“Then suck.”

Aziraphale doesn’t need to be told twice, it seems, because even before Crowley had finished speaking, the angel was taking him into his perfect mouth. His pink lips stretch around the shaft, soft tongue grazing the underside and Crowley snarls in bliss, head thrown back as his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck- _fuck_ , so good Aziraphale, sssso wonderful, baby.” Crowley pants, hips thrusting up in little, tight circles. Aziraphale bobs with the movement, his own sparkling blue eyes peeking up at Crowley through his long lashes, rosy cheeks dusted with a lovely shade of blooming red. “You’re- _ngk_ -you’re always so good for me, dove, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale hums in affirmation, the sound vibrating through Crowley’s cock and the demon’s hips stutter, a groan of possessive pleasure pulling up from his chest. 

His husband’s hands are near the ginger’s knees, those delicate fingers gently digging into the skin along Crowley’s thighs and the demon shivers at the small prinks of his mate’s dull nails. 

“Do you--” Crowley pants through his blissful haze, nearly fucking the back of Aziraphale’s throat now, the angel seemingly having no issues with taking Crowley’s dick as far into his mouth as non-humanly possible. “--Do you want me to-- _fuck-fuckfuck--_ fill that gorgous mouth up with my cum, huh? Want me to replace-- _ah, ngk_ \-- all of those empty words you're going to tell those fuckers tomorrow with my scent, my ssseed? Own you, _possess you_ even when you’re being such a good little-- _fuck_ \--angel in Heaven, sweetheart?” 

Aziraphale moans and Crowley barely has time to tug at his husband’s curls before he’s cumming directly into his angel’s mouth with a slightly gargled yell of Aziraphale’s name. 

Aziraphale, body now fully wiggling as he thrusts himself against the ground with the need for friction, seems to orgasm at almost the exact same time because he’s screaming around Crowley’s cock, mouth open in ecstasy as his beautiful eyes squeeze shut, his entire frame trembling.

The sight just makes Crowley cum all the harder.

His angel swallows each mouthful down greedily, throat bobbing. He licks around the edge of Crowley’s shaft, long strokes of his warm tongue that has the demon hissing in the aftershocks, finally coming down from his orgasm induced high. 

He pants, leaning back against the couch cushion, watching as Aziraphale sits back on his own haunches with one last, lingering lick against Crowley’s tip, the carpet below him wet from his own apparent climax. His chin and lips are covered with drool and cum and Crowley can’t stop the possessive rumble that shakes his chest at the wonderful sight.

Body lax, Crowley reluctantly snaps them both clean with a quick demonic miracle, gently gathering his now yawning husband back into his arms, propping Aziraphale against his chest once more. The angel hums in appreciation, cuddling closer with a light sigh, his plump legs and ass settled perfectly along Crowley’s legs.

“Feel better, baby?” Crowley asks, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it across them when Aziraphale shivers. “Still anxious?”

“A little,” Aziraphale ducks under his chin, speaking into the hollow of Crowley’s throat. “But it’s a lot better now. Thank you, darling.”

Crowley kisses his temple, nuzzling into his angel’s soft curls. “It’s no problem, my dove.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos make my day and comments fuel my writing! :D
> 
> My Good Omens Side-Blog: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/top-crowley-central


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